So every year my Ruggles family does the mythical bargaining (which somehow took on a Bostonian accent) on Christmas eve wherein the kids beg and plead to open presents the night before, and Mom and Dad try to weasel breakfast-in-bed out of us.
The result has remained the same since inception with minor nuance. We would open one present - from either our designated cousin or from G-ma Oppelt, and Mom and Dad would get eggs, toast, and gravy or some other fancy bartered breakfasty accoutrements.
One year, I had either Ali or Natalie giving me my present, and it really seemed to come from Uncle Tim - a toy blow gun with suction darts. Dad was naturally mortified as evidenced by the horror etched on his face being as how anything that moves through the air can remove eyes magnetically merely in passing. Or through contact or something. I don't know - surely it involves some sort of death wish.
Anyway, we didn't sleep much that night as we were having too much fun shooting stuff. There were three holes on each side at the end to act as a muzzle brake, but eventually I discovered that my range increased dramatically when I slid my foam grip out over the holes.
The real fun (as the twinners can attest) began when Craig and I discovered that his random wax toy crap (what in the heck was that about?) could be molded into various bullet shapes and sizes. On the way down to visit Tim's crew in Sweeney, Craig and I were in the back making new shapes like hollow points and cylindrical slugs, and I tested them on Craigs thigh across the way from me. If they hurt sufficiently, they were deemed worthy. Only the best for Timmy and Tracy.
Then, at Tim's, Craig and I hunted the twins for real, and Nat and Ali for pretend, and we shot them - over and over. Once, I was in the girls' room, and I saw one of the twins, Tracy?, in Tim's room. I lobbed a slug out the room, down the hall, into the other room, over the bed, right into a body shot. It was amazing - not to brag, I am seriously awesome. How did that never get taken away? We must have done a great job at convincing Tim and Tracy to not tell on us. Maybe we offered them free shots at us or something.
Blowguns make for great fun presents, but they may be considered a touch dangerous.
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11 comments:
Yes, Dad and his "projectile" fear. Something must have happened to him as a child.
The accent was actually derived from Johnny Lingo in the scene when they were negociating how many cows the chick was worth. I don't remember Boston in the background. Maybe that happened once ya'll became Yanks.
bargaining ~~~~ bah-gaining - rather bostonian. Weird, but there it is.
Just so you know, my dad almost always bought all of the presents for you guys. And he has always been one to push his brother's buttons. You should see some of the stuff he has bought for Ben!
I soo remember the blow gun too. And I do remember thinking you were really chasing me! It figures. ;P
Interesting side not: Dad was supposedly a decent shot as a kid. Or at least he was a shooter. I only recently found out he had gun as a kid. I certainly never would have guessed it.
to clarify. that wax came from citronelle candles.
I don't think it did. I think Craig had some wax in a toy-like capacity.
What comment was taken out?
I don't know. I can't even see who did it.
you know. reading this post again takes away the guilt i had for hitting Craig with a blood weed spear. do you have a scar?
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