Throughout the years I’ve tried a great deal to do as many REGULAR EARTH HUMAN things as I can stomach, hanging out, movies and even the recent trip to the shooting range that left me a trembling hollow shell of my former self……but it turns out that wasn’t quite enough to prepare me for the violent biodegradable massacre that is……….paintball.

Take a moment to regain your composure if you must, I know just mentioning the word outside of elite circles can cause neurological disorders (ranging from epilepsy all the way to thinking Justin Timberlake has any talent whatsoever) but it was a necessary evil in order to progress our tale onwards.

This “event” (as we shall politely call it) was another invite by D-chan though I did appreciate that he tried to maintain the illusion of me having a choice about whether I attended or not. *Cough* My foundation of bitching established, we can now move on to the actual happeningness.

I arrived at one of our friends homes (since it has a massive plot of land ideal for the art of fake killing each other) and was soon introduced to my would be team mates who were diverse in their lack of any sort of diversity. Notably though there was one fellow who claimed to know me from my early childhood and then proudly stated that just the previous night he beat up an old man in a drunken stupor……because the old man said he was a violent drunk.

Time went on and before I knew it I was equipped and surrounded by grass tall enough that I might inhale it if not careful. I stalked through twitching nervously at the prospect of being shot at while UNLEASHING a girly scream each time a guinea fowl would BURST out of the grass when I got near.

20 minutes of sweating so much my mask resembled an aquarium later and I was the last man on my team standing. I received much praise for this fact later on……but I actually achieved such a mighty accomplishment when I encountered a large yellow spider floating above my head and proceeded to show it I meant business by running very very very far from it…..and everyone else in the process.

We had another game afterwards where I was mortally wounded on my right nipple by a team mate but I quickly put that behind me when I found the real joy of the day…..the true art of kings….the manliest thing since hair sandwiches. I discovered……table tennis.

It was like a scene out of a poorly written shounen sports manga, I had never as much touched a paddle before (well not asexually at least) but when I grasped it with my left hand I felt INFUSED WITH POWER THAT COULD DESTROY WORLDS OR AT LEAST FRAGILE OBJECTS VAGUELY SHAPED LIKE WORLDS. My aura shone and before I knew it I was sending balls WOOOSHING past heads with single swipes and taking on one opponent after another in some sort of seamless TABLE (tennis) TOURNAMENT!

Of course perhaps I should admit that everyone kind of sucked (including me – but my balls were SURROUNDED BY FIGHTING SPIRIT to make up for it) so it was essentially a battle of suckage and then there’s also the fact that after looking up the rules after coming home it appears that everyone was rather confused about how the ball is supposed to bounce.

REGARDLESSNESS! The awesomeosity I demonstrated that day will not soon be forgotten. I fought for my nipple….and avenged he was!

P.S.

Read the comments if you’re wondering what’s happening about that anime entry poll. So far it’s a confusing semi-stalemate though…..which tells me the delightful news that I’m going to piss people off no matter which choice I make.