My son, Josh, has an airsoft gun. The words air and soft imply that though the contraption is a gun the sting of the ammunition won’t hurt—wrong. The little green BB-like pellets pack a wallop, and his sisters are often on the receiving end of his, um, affection.
Over the holidays, Mallorie decided she’d had enough. While he was at work, she snuck into his bedroom and emptied the pellets into a canister, which she hid in the laundry room. Intrigued by her scheme, I captured the moment on our camcorder. The plan was to show the footage later that evening to an unsuspecting audience--Josh--to sort of even the score and evoke a good laugh for his sisters.
The plot thickened.
What if they taunted him and asked to be shot? Oh, yeah. That would really get him going when he found the gun was empty!
When the appointed hour arrived, his sisters filed into his room. I accompanied them with the camera. Not one for a crowd at the foot of his bed—especially if it contains pesky sisters—he asked them to leave.
“Make us,” said Mags as she bounced around his room making faces. He hates it when she does that.
Out came the airsoft and a warning to flee.
Spurred by the mounting anticipation of seeing his disappointment when his usual sister removal tactic came up lacking, I egged him on as well. Shots were fired. Our laughter turned into yelps of dismay--Mallorie hadn’t removed all the ammo. Her husband, Rick, laughed so hard he could barely breath.
As my son chased me down the hall—I looked pretty suspicious holding the camera—I betrayed my daughter yelling, “It wasn’t me. It was her!”
In the end, Josh—and Rick—got the last laugh.
And I have a hilarious piece of film to send into America’s Funniest Home Videos.
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