Yesterday, I found out something new about myself.
I am a Paintball God.
I had always suspected my greatness, but now after yesterday’s visit to Paintball City, where I absolutely dominated, I now know it.
I am a Paintball God.
A few weeks ago Rachelle came across one of my journals, and after reading through it thought that Paintball might be a good way for me to exorcise some of the “rage and frustration induced violent fantasies” that I obsessively scribbled throughout the notebook. Speaking slowly and carefully, Rachelle described Paintball as a kind of “Spa day for emotionally distressed and angry men.” And so, she organized a Paintball afternoon for me through a group that her sister was affiliated with.
As I was putting on the serial killer coveralls that Paintball City provides for their customers, I felt like I was slipping on a second skin. Although it was my first time, I immediately felt at home and instinctively knew exactly what to do and when to do it. Neatly tucked away in one of the sniper towers in the facility, I was able to amass a total of 143 kills, which is completely awesome.
However, the day was not without some controversy. One of the enemy combatants took off her protective mask– which she was to wear at all times while on the war grid–and when I saw this vulnerability, I took advantage of it and fired, hitting her in the mouth—and then twice in the throat.
Perfect shooting.
As always, after a kill, I raised my weapon over my head and shouted, “I AM YOUR LORD!!”
Cindy, the enemy girl I had eliminated, began to cry. Apparently, my shot had knocked a tooth out, and that, in combination with the yellow paint that seemed to be bleeding out of her mouth and face, caused many of the other children in William’s (Rachelle’s sister’s son) grade three class to burst out screaming and crying. Honestly, I don’t know what the big deal was as it was only a baby tooth, and it was Cindy’s own fault. She should NOT have taken off her mask!
At any rate, it turns out that the little babies in Mrs. Atkinson’s grade three class– who were allegedly at Paintball City on a field trip merely to observe– were not ready for the marksmanship of Michael Murray. As greatness is always feared, I have been banned from chaperoning any further field trips, or stepping on the school property, and asked to stop sending text messages to William, informing him of which student is next on my Paintball hit list, or legal action will be pursued, blah, blah, blah….