Rolling Down the River

When I was younger, a group of friends and I would “tube down the river”. Since that time (and many news stories about the cleanliness of the water), I haven’t raged the rapids, because there’s no way to top the last run.

It was a hellishly hot day, and there were four of us (two couples-Stef and Jerry, my boyfriend and me).

When we got to the river and settled into the tubes, Jerry asked me why I had four bags of jumbo marshmallows. I told him that he would find out.

I then proceeded to poke holes in each of the bags, and let them marinate as we lolled down the river at a leisurely pace. Once the white treats had swelled with the septic water, MARSHMALLOW WARS was on…

I begin beaning my cohorts of river travel with the frenzy of a tennis ball shooter, missing more than hitting.

Jerry took one to the face, leaving a shmear of white goo (hehehehe). My boyfriend (who was a bit high maintenance) had defensive “wounds” on his arms from dodging the puffy bullets, as did Stef.

With much giggling and yelling, it was WW III on the river. After all of the ammo was spent, we settled in, comparing our wounds (trying to wash dried marshmallow off was hell). Jerry and I were floating next to each other, when I saw his hand shot out towards my head, jamming marshmallow into my ear as far as it would go. IT WAS ON…

I am a Scorpio, and we are very patient people when it comes to getting back at someone. We will wait until the perfect opportunity and make sure that the party that has done the wrong-doing will pay to the fullest….my opportunity would come, and it did about 20 minutes later.

Jerry and I got separated from our significant others (the gals), and had taken a side rivulet. We were facing each other and talking (he knew me really well, and had that nervous look in his eye, wondering when I would sting). I reached down in the river to paddle along, when what should my hand close upon? A lot of people bring food to the river (EEEEEeeew, eating in a toilet), and sometimes their coolers tip over, giving the river a bounty of culinary delights…my hand happened to grasp an old subway sandwich bag. I reached in deep and made a soggy meatball of the remnants of the sub.

I smiled my wicked, evil smile and looked at Jerry, bringing up my hand to wing my luncheon missile. His eyes connected with my plan, and he screamed, “NOOOOoooooooo!” as he kicked up a huge wall of water.

With a prayer to the gods of revenge, I hucked the gooey, sloppy mess through the wall of white water, never expecting what would happen next.

Jerry was still screaming when I threw the glob of muck, “Nooooooooooo…ach..cough..hack.... cough.”

I had hit him right in the mouth, through the wall of water, as he was screaming. I, of course, started laughing so hard that I almost puked.

His last words, “Dude, that was nasty. I can still taste the pickle.”

Never mess with a Scorpio… or as I like to say, “Don’t bring Kool-Aid to a Beer Party.”

Have a good one….

deutschmarc