predator vs prey.

Every so often it happens that we become stir crazy..this is not too common of an occurance, but it does happen. As was the case this past weekend.
To celebrate our cabin fever we decided to rejoice in a true hill billy/hick fashion.. by shooting crap.

Except here, our access to guns is quite limited so we had to settle for the next best thing: sling shots. Figuring that sling shots would be easy to come by, given the fact that every guard at school carries one, we set out the night before planning to speed into the bazaar, pick up the necessary weapons and be home within an hour. This did not happen. Nan and I spent hours walking from shop to shop asking for a slingshot..but due to the language barrier, we had to mime the action: Nan playing the role of the human and me the monkey.

After striking out far too many times and being told to check the shop four stores down just one too many times, we were ready to admit defeat. sulking off to one final shope, I decided, well, what do I have to lose and asked a tailor wearing the thickest glasses I have ever seen, if he might by chance have sling shot access. and oh did we strike gold.
we also had the good fortune to run across a few very creepy dolls and prizes; which, contrary to popular belief, we did not mangle ourselves..

The epic morning begins and this is what I see after first stumbling out of bed.
no, it had not snowed the night before..

(for those of you who are slow to understand, it is mold)

Upon confronting Nan about how disgusting this is and how I cannot begin to fathom how we live breathing in such appalling fumes, she responds with 'oh yea, I saw that last week'

WHAT!
Who knows how long that basket has been festering in the corner of our bookshelf, and we (mainly Nan) could have taken preventative measures for the sake of our health, but that would have made far too much sense. I think that two solidly thick inches of petrified mold can easily be added to the reasons why we will never be real grown ups.
Since this discovery I have noticed a new flemy sound each time I exhale. My subconscious is beginning to mess with my consciousness, resulting in a constant allergic reaction to everything and particularly labored breathing at all times.
But that is neither her nor there. Back to the story.

Nan and I spent an amiable Saturday morning alternating between putting absurd pictures of our friends on plastic bottles of various sizes, practicing and mastering our sling shot aims, completing a strenuous course of wrist stretches, and unloading household items, namely clothes, from large plastic bags (if monsoon decides to pick back up, we definitely are SOL)

disclaimer: practice doesn't always make perfect.

Realizing that drinking and slingshooting is potentially dangerous, we established many zones, rules, as well as the right to confiscate. Fortunately, we did not have to enforce any of the like. In fact, as far as I know, there were no major injuries, just a few hurt feelings about skill level and lack thereof...


The party was a sure SHOT at a ROCKing time, that is for sure. While our porch has now become a gravel path filled inch by inch with small rocks and we have make shift scarecrows of our friends hanging from the clothesline, it was well worth it...perhaps we can leave the 'decorations' up in honor of halloween?.
Consequently, this morning, when I was walking up to school and had my normal run in with the savage beasts I did not cower away and back down the mountain as usual, instead, I pulled out my sling shot with pride, took aim, and by the time I had pulled with rubber back, the monkeys had vanished. Instant confidence.
I wonder if this is how all hillbilly's feel about their shooting skills.....?