Bombs away.
It's early in the afternoon. The sun is so hot that it will actually vaporize human flesh, so the kids are supposed to stay inside for a couple of hours and sleep.
One child is trying to rest, though. His slumber is often disturbed by the sound of sandals rapidly slapping against stone and cement. After ten minutes of this, he gives up and looks out the window at the bathhouse next door. He waits for a minute before he sees one of his comrades run out of the edifice, slamming the screen door behind him. He's carrying a small trash-bucket, which comes up to a few inches above the kid's knee. Ordinarily, the bucket's very light, considering the fact that it's made of plastic and often empty. However, the posture of the one dragging it indicates that it weighs somewhere in the area of forty pounds. The observer makes no sound and waits for this spectacle to pass before he steals into the bathhouse. Inside he finds several empty, unmarked plastic bags. He shrugs. Then a bright speck catches his eye, and he crouches to pick up a small piece of plastic. A glimmer of recognition passes over his face, and he realizes that he is holding a burst water balloon.
He quickly traces the path of the grunt he saw earlier - it's not very easy to do so, for the trail of water the bucket left is quickly being consumed by the fiery orb above, but he manages. He comes upon a cluster of campers and a few counselors. They're all rapidly whispering important-sounding things to each other, and a couple of them are fiddling with some sort of rubber contraption, and the counselors are each situated next to one or two of the buckets he noticed before. One of them acknowledges him, and he is informed that something major is going on. Before he can be briefed further, the bucket-bearing counselors get up and start walking toward the covered patio next to the gym. Everyone follows; there's no time for explanations.
Once they reach their destination, the buckets are laid out in a line. Each bucket has more water balloons than the protagonist has ever seen at one time. One of the counselors begins to give orders, and it is revealed that the girls from the adjoining female camp are on the other side of the gym chowing down on their midday snacks, opening packages their parents sent them, and generally having way too much fun. In an attempt to remedy this situation, one of the male counselors has planned a raid. As he barks out orders, he draws the mass of guys up into five groups. One of the groups will go through the gym and hurl water balloons through the windows at the snack area five feet away, while two more groups go around the sides of the building - one on the left, one on the right - and burst in, guns blazing. The remaining two will serve as the second wave of attackers, and will follow in the footsteps of the footsoldiers thirty seconds after they are first deployed. Before all this happens, the counselors solemnly equip each camper with all the balloons they can carry. Then the aforementioned rubber monstrosity was brought out and revealed to be a water balloon launcher. Using this, the counselors launch five balloons over the roof of the gym and then the order is given for the campers to wreak havoc.
And it is truly wreaked.
All goes according to plan, as the balloon-wielding attackers plunge into the crowd of screaming girls. Our hero throws a beautiful shot that explodes right in the middle of someone's freshely opened care package. Things are going well, with no opposition, until one of the guys gets it into his head that it would be funny to bombard the owner of the camp, who's currently standing off to the side and laughing. He attempts to do so and, even though he misses horribly, succeeds in royally pissing off the owner. This does not go unnoticed by the attacking hordes. They retreat before him as he shouts threats and kind of jogs in their direction. The mission is, however, a success; the women will think twice before attempting to put food in their mouths and chew it when there are bored men nearby.
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Story ideas go to electricidiom@aol.com.
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