| Date:9/7-9/8 2000 Location:Schol Hall row, Alumni Pl. What:If you don't know, ask someone else on the list, it's 3 in the morning and I still have to read a play and do two spanish labs before my 8:30 class(y'know, some things never change) Why:Um...water fight? duh? At ten o'clock I was informed that Mike had picked up 60 water balloons this time, along with 8 of the punch ball watermelon sized mortars. We have devised a system with two people carrying them in a towel for ease of transport and deployment which should relieve much battlefield confusion. I attempted to study for a few hours, but as the clock reached 11:30 I decided it was time to prepare for the forthcoming battle. I changed into my trademark green cargo shorts and black t-shirt, complete with my ninja mask and kickass black backpack, and filled the three tanks for my gun. I had some new equipment though. If I havn't told you, last Sunday I "liberated" an adjustable metal cane(complete with rubber handle and heel) from the local Steak and Shake, as it was 3:30 in the friggin morning before they brought us our food(that was a two hour wait for burgers and a chocolate Pibb) Willy spraypainted it jet black for me, so that it matches my GIJOE like ensemble(I'm freakin Snake-Eyes, yeah guys, you know who I'm talking about) I was sure this would be useful in tipping the large bins of water that were used last week before they could reach me. Plus it looks cool. I'm like the Daredevil with it. However, after I left my room I noticed something was amiss. There were no lines of water filled wastebaskets in the hall. No 55 gallon tub of steaming death to deliver to unwary invaders. No assembly line of waterballoon tiers hard at work in the bathroom. I began to ransack the hall for recruits, ending up with only four guys who agreed to tie balloons, two guys who said they would watch teh fire escape, and three others who had SS's who were willing to accompany me. I was aghast at the drop in morale we had suffered, but I didn't let that daunt me. I load the compartment in the bottom of my pack with 4 water grenades, hooked on my cane, and took off out the back door, to find my own form of vengeance, vigilante style. By the time I had circled the hall, the Pearson Pricks were assembled in front of their hall, next door, and were taunting our men on the catwalk. They attempted to attack, but their poorly thrown projectiles fell well short of their mark, actually hitting some of their own cars. My comrades with SS's were merely standing in our front yard, watching the mocking proceedings as the good name of Stephenson(allright, honestly, not exactly good, but some people think we're neat) was drug through the mud, and several disparaging remarks were made about our collective mothers. That was when I attacked. If anyone has ever seen Star Wars, A New Hope, they are no doubt familiar with the "Trench Run" Luke takes on the Death Star. Now, transplant that image into a large schol hall, instead of a trench envision Alumni Pl, the small road that goes in front of it, instead of enemy TIE fighters there are Pearson guys out there with water balloons, and instead of Luke and his two wingmen, there's me, with SS in one hand and a watergrenade in the other. The first victim didn't even notice me in the dimly lit street until my balloon splattered across his chest. From then on the only sound was the hiss of my water rifle, the constant pumping as I refilled pressure, the outraged yells of most of Pearson hall, and the peaceful splish splash of poorly thrown and well dodged water balloons exploding around me. I managed to hose down in some fashion at least twenty guys, and instead of a thermal exhaust port at the end, there was a crowded group of snooty Watkins and Miller girls cheering on Pearson from the safety behind the battlefront. Or so they thought. The girlish screams accompanied me as I tore around the back of Pearson to run down the alley that led back to Stephenson, only to discover that this alley was where Pearson was turning out their vast resevoir of balloons from. I charged dead into the midst of them, kicking over what buckets I could, and dodging balloons thrown directly at me. Soon I was past them and bobbing and weaving to avoid their long lobs as I made it back to friendly territory. A quick change of tanks and another balloon in hand, I started my next "Trench Run". All in all I made three such suicide charges, managing to soak almost the entire Pearson hall and most of their female onlookers. I did take much return fire, without the element of suprise I was often ambushed. I took two balloons directly to the head without stopping, and my favorite quote as I went on my last run was"Isn't that the guy we just nailed the crap out of?" Eventually, as the Pearsonites saw there would be no straight fight, they went back into their Air Conditioned hole to lick their wounds. The few Stephenson Men still out there formed a truce with Batenfeld, and we marched across the street to KK Amini, to unleash aquatic havoc on the weanies. They refused to take the field, however, and after we received several poorly executed moonings from the KKA crowd, we all headed back. Us Stephensons, realizing we still had water in our tanks and balloons in our hands, and ever conservation-concious, decided not to waste the opportunity and abruptly broke our truce while in the midst of the Batenfeld horde. We fled to our yard in the chaos, and there waged a final stand as we dodged left over balloons and emptied our guns on Batenfeld as they walked past to their hall. I then went into the hall for the night to rest. We were half way through the re-airing of last nights Daily Show when Sleepy Dave came tearing down the stairs. Apparently Pearson had mounted a sneak attack on our fire escape. A watchful Stephenson man had dumped the 55 gallon drum on them (lovingly know in the hall as "Operation: Moses") and they regrouped in front of their hall to continue taunting. Sleepy was rounding up a group for a covert ops mission to sneak behing Pearson, soak them and run. It was very complex, but after we mapped out the logistics, the 6 of us set off. We snuch up behind them on their deck and scouted the group. It was now only 5 guys with one bucket of water, and two girls from Watkins(known campus wide as being a little bit "tricky"). We ran out, sprayed them and continued on to our yard to reload. After 3 more similar raids, and several midstreet standoff's (tombstone style, with us spreading out and walking on to the street one by one, and facing off) we went back to our porch(ie fire escape) to brag over our accomplishments. The most gratifying victory of the night, however, was when the Pearson guys' two Watkins girls left them and came over to hang out with us, obvioulsy seduced by our super soaker machismo. This got the Pearson guys so stewed up that they paced the street for an HOUR waiting for the girls to come back, and eventually got the hint and went home. The great part is that not only had we totally soaked these girls, but we stood around talking about action figures and catbraining (guys, if you don't know, talk to me privately about it, I can't say now because there are ladies present) and they STILL sat around with us from 1 till 3, when we finally walked them home. All in all, while not a complete success, definitely not a loss. matt ps wow, this is long. anyone still reading this must be either a real fan of water fights of bored to death. Hah! and ms ivey said I didn't write enough. |