Oh SHIT! Thursday is almost over and I haven’t even begun to put my story together. I kept walking around wondering what the heck I had forgotten. I checked and I had indeed unplugged the iron. I made sure that I had made coffee for tomorrow. Yes I’m spoiled and get it in bed so I make it easy on the Big Kahuna and it automatically brews at 6 a.m. I double checked the door and the windows, all locked. Then it dawned on me. It was time for Theme Thursday. I have been chasing my tail all week and have not even checked to see what the theme would be. It was gnawing on me but it didn’t register until I looked at the little date thingy on my phone. I usually don’t look at it because I have to get out the extra strong magnifying glass but I did and the first thing that came out of my mouth was OH SHIT! I ran to my trusty computer, Big Bertha, and pulled up Theme Thursday. Then I saw the theme was BALLS. I knew exactly what to write.
I have not read what my fellow quills have written so I am going in blind. Once you have bounced through my story go on over and read the rest of the crew’s Theme Thursday post.
They stood on opposing ground, the imaginary line drawn between them. The advisories were in formation and the battle was about to begin. They had been given their orders and they knew exactly what to do. Go for the strongest first, the weak and feeble would be easy to get in the end.
Norman Wisenhunt was locked and loaded and ready to fire. There was fierceness in his eyes that made the enemy quiver with fear. Next to Norm was Leroy Bernelli who adjusted his weapon and got the enemy in his cross hairs. They were ready for the assault. The whistle blew and the screams ensued.
It was bloody and dirty. The big rubber balls were flying through the air like cannon balls. Alvin Barr screamed and flew past Gladys like he had been shot with an elephant gun. Gladys looked to her left and saw the strongest of their team the one who had been chosen first, Alfred Hilbert, go down with a bloody nose. She looked across the cafeteria where recess was being held on the cold rainy day and saw Frankie Polaczech holding one of the deadly soon to be launched missiles in her hand.
Gladys stood like a deer in the head lights unable to move. She looked left then right trying to gauge which way to dodge. Frankie let loose of the ball. The whole thing happened in slow motion. Gladys saw the ball coming at her. The trajectory was her nose and she was going cross eyed looking at it as it sped closer. Then that primal part of medulla oblongata put her feet and muscles in action. Gladys dipped and turned in a move that would make Morpheus jealous she dodged that ball.
Then the unthinkable happened. That ball bounced right back into her hands. She grabbed it and held it tight trying to decide who to target.
Gladys knew she didn’t have a strong throw so she would have to choose her target carefully. She searched the opposing line. It was thinner than it had been moments before thanks to her team leader, Peggy Perdanales. Gladys held the ball and as she did her mind began to wonder as it was wont to do in stressful situations.
There she stood with a giant trophy in her hands. She was the most valuable player of the World Cup Dodge Ball Championship. She could see herself in slow motion as she released the ball with just enough spin and torque that it flew toward Vernon Kirkpatrick. The ball spun and dipped and at the very last minute turned and popped Patsy Spillers right in the middle of her large forehead. The fans sent up confetti, fireworks exploded and Gladys’ teammates lifted her on their shoulders in celebration. She was the hero. She had saved the day, won the battle and secured the World Cup.
Gladys awoke on the floor. She thought she heard bells ringing and a whistle blowing. She looked up at the circle of faces surrounding her. “What were you thinking Gladass” yelled Carmen DiVito. She saw her team members one by one shake their heads and stomp off. It was then she realized she had been daydreaming and had forgotten to actually launch that winning spinning twirling rubber missile at Patsy’ giant forehead. She had instead been hit by Percy Doolittle the weakest, nerdiest boy in the 4th grade. She had been splattered by Prissy Percy.
2 weeks ago