The large red welts are finally healing. I took a bunch of Boy Scouts and their friends paint balling the other day. My youngest son had been blowing the whole week about how he hadn’t taken a direct hit the last time we were there, just splatter. Well we went to get his girlfriend, who was going with us, and he started telling her the same old tired story. I told her, “he’s been like this all week, don’t stand too close to him cause he’s got a target painted on him and he’s going down.”
So, there I was, my son on one side and me on the other in a 3 on 3. I told the other two guys that my boy was all mine. The only thing I hadn’t planned for was I had loaned my heavy shirt to his girl, who had only worn a T-shirt, which left me in…. a T-shirt.
The attack started, I moved up well. My boy and I were trading fire but neither of us could get a hit. I decided to take drastic action. I charged, gun blazing (can a paintball gun blaze?). We traded fire getting closer and closer, and finally I achieved my goal, my son had experienced “several” close range, direct hits, at the cost of several for myself. In the normal way of men, I feigned indifference to where I was hit and made my way back to the dead box. I am here to confess to you though, IT HURT LIKE HELL!! He nailed me good and with only my light T-shirt, I might as well have been naked. Paintballs make these goofy rings when they hit you, and I actually had bleeding rings on my chest side and belly. Did I stop? Nah, after a few minutes they got numb (till the next day) and the testosterone poisoning kicked in I went a couple of more rounds, after all, I’ll heal.