I have two young sons and as violent as I can be in my writing ("let the [literary] beatings begin") I am not so physically.
So I decided that my sons should not have toy guns of any kind...until one day I came out into the yard and saw Ian grab up his rubber alligator and garb the left set of legs and begin to machine gun down his brother with the aliigator/machine gun.
They are just gonna do it.
It's everywhere. Guns.
*******
When I was talking with Mac last night he told me a story. He had a tradition of taking his sons to the beach on father's Day and they would always have a waterfight with waterguns.
But this one year they were away from regular sources of water and so he had prepared (remember, this is the same guy who modified a Star Trek tracer gun and took out a guy's tooth).
So this one year he bought motorized squirt guns that had actual "clips" that you could slap into the bottom of the pistol when the others ran out.
He hid the guns and the clips in a duffle bag dark and deep. He felt he had it under control even when he saw his sons up the hill preparing to come sweeping down like banshies.
He cooly grabbed his pistols out and set them on the picnec table amid the ample food and drink. Then he looked for the clips.
GONE.
The apple had not fallen far from the tree and the lads were one step ahead of him all the way.
Then came the rebel yell as they came howling down out of the hills in full attack mode with super-soakers and all manner of a water attack.
There were only seconds to adjust. Mac knew he was screwed. Oddly, he had a brief flashback to Scorfull reeling back after the plastic disk had richocehted off his left front tooth.
He grinned, twisted the two tops quickly off of the two sport bottles and slunk the two motorized pistols into them and began to fire as the attack began in earnest.
___________________________
What happened next...
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