Head Shot

When I was a kid one of our favorite games was the dirt bomb fight. We’d hide behind things and hurl clods of soil at each other, grenade style. They’d break apart and send up clouds of dust when they landed. The object? Take out your opponent. Over the weekend I realized that I haven’t really come that far since being nine-years-old, because Saturday was paintball day.

Out in the woods of Columbia County, me and some guys from the firehouse ran around hiding behind trees trying to shoot other guys running around and hiding behind trees. Our ragtag group thought we were bad until some of the other players showed up in full cammo and carrying guns that looked like sniper rifles. Mostly, we got schooled —but once or twice disorganization and haphazard tactics worked in our favor against a force of better trained and more heavily armed opponents.

I woke up Sunday with some angry red welts where I was hit, but it’s the shot I took to the head that really hurts. Good thing they didn’t hit anything important.

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