The following is my dramatic account of a nerf gun duel between myself and a friend, in the game of Nerf Mafia. (in the old AACC days) For those who have never played, the point of the game is to be the last one alive - in this game we had two teams, and we played over the course of a few days, between classes, all over campus. With Nerf guns. There was one person who was a moderator, and we had to report to her when we died or when we killed someone, so she could keep track of which team was winning. Here is what I sent her. Oh, and of course we all had nicknames.
It was a dark and stormy night. Well- it wasnt night. But I vaguely remember it being a sorta gray day. I was in a terrible mood. And I knew that The Duke was out to get me. So, I bought a gun on my way to school, loaded it, and put it in the front pocket of my backpack where it would be pretty accessible should the need arise. I planned my day in order to avoid everyone that I usually hang out with. Later that morning, I heard that someone had killed the Duke, so I figured I was ok and I went to The Hill anyway: a mistake that would change the course of the game drastically.
I walked into the gazebo. I felt like I was surrounded by dead people. In fact, I was. Ghosts of soldiers who had gone before me loomed around.... ghosts of old comrades.... and enemy ghosts, encouraging my one living enemy to slay me as soon as possible.
One thing that I had overlooked in my plans for the day-- Jordan was still alive. Alive and armed. I had the distinct disadvantage, because although I had a gun, it was in my backpack. And there was a gun aimed at my head. I was certainly in a pickle. How could I get my gun out of my backpack before he shot me? I moved casually across the gazebo and sat down. All eyes were on me. They interrogated me, asking "Do you have a gun?" (They happened to know that as of last night, I hadnt even bought one yet) I said no, I was unarmed.
Suddenly, I reached into my backpack, and pulled out.... a mountain dew. Jordan gasped, and drew and fired quicker than Matt Dillan in any of his best shootouts. I was quite impressed. But his aim left more than a little to be desired, and the bullet flew by, leaving me unharmed. My clumsiness almost killed me. I should have moved more slowly in getting my drink out.
Bystander ghosts (the Duke and Chase) were telling Jordan to just shoot me and be done with it. Just shoot! I put on my best innocent, helpless female look, and was like "please don't shoot me."
To his credit, Jordan was a complete gentleman. Chivalry is not dead, even in the midst of wiley evil feminine devils. "I don't want to shoot her if she's unarmed," he said.
But the gun remained fixed on me. His phone rang. My hands were shaking. The gun remained fixed on me.
We began talking of other things.
His guard went down. My gun went up.
I fired, and there was a silence while people took the time to realize how they had been tricked.
I laughed evilly. Cutthroat Maggie is not one to be trifled with.
My own death was not nearly as dramatic.
October 18, 2005 -The Account of the Death of Jordan
as told by Cutthroat Maggie to The DonIt was a dark and stormy night. Well- it wasnt night. But I vaguely remember it being a sorta gray day. I was in a terrible mood. And I knew that The Duke was out to get me. So, I bought a gun on my way to school, loaded it, and put it in the front pocket of my backpack where it would be pretty accessible should the need arise. I planned my day in order to avoid everyone that I usually hang out with. Later that morning, I heard that someone had killed the Duke, so I figured I was ok and I went to The Hill anyway: a mistake that would change the course of the game drastically.
I walked into the gazebo. I felt like I was surrounded by dead people. In fact, I was. Ghosts of soldiers who had gone before me loomed around.... ghosts of old comrades.... and enemy ghosts, encouraging my one living enemy to slay me as soon as possible.
One thing that I had overlooked in my plans for the day-- Jordan was still alive. Alive and armed. I had the distinct disadvantage, because although I had a gun, it was in my backpack. And there was a gun aimed at my head. I was certainly in a pickle. How could I get my gun out of my backpack before he shot me? I moved casually across the gazebo and sat down. All eyes were on me. They interrogated me, asking "Do you have a gun?" (They happened to know that as of last night, I hadnt even bought one yet) I said no, I was unarmed.
Suddenly, I reached into my backpack, and pulled out.... a mountain dew. Jordan gasped, and drew and fired quicker than Matt Dillan in any of his best shootouts. I was quite impressed. But his aim left more than a little to be desired, and the bullet flew by, leaving me unharmed. My clumsiness almost killed me. I should have moved more slowly in getting my drink out.
Bystander ghosts (the Duke and Chase) were telling Jordan to just shoot me and be done with it. Just shoot! I put on my best innocent, helpless female look, and was like "please don't shoot me."
To his credit, Jordan was a complete gentleman. Chivalry is not dead, even in the midst of wiley evil feminine devils. "I don't want to shoot her if she's unarmed," he said.
But the gun remained fixed on me. His phone rang. My hands were shaking. The gun remained fixed on me.
We began talking of other things.
His guard went down. My gun went up.
I fired, and there was a silence while people took the time to realize how they had been tricked.
I laughed evilly. Cutthroat Maggie is not one to be trifled with.
My own death was not nearly as dramatic.
_______________________________
Eulogy for the Death of Cutthroat Maggie
(several days later)
I hid in the pine trees on the side of the hill,
going up slowly to make my kill.
There was Becka talking with friends,
with no means of escape, and no clue of her end.
She saw me coming and ran for her gun,
but she had no more time, because her time was done.
So I took my gun and shot her point blank in the chest,
and she is now quite dead as you have probably guessed.
Josh
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