Chapter 7

Chapter 7: The Nameless Method of Acquaintanceship

It was time for drastic action. The time was here. The time was now. Or then. Or, umm, never mind.
I will start off this chapter first by telling you of what kind of method of acquaintanceship this would be. I have not documented what methods I used that didn’t work, and I do not fully remember the method that did. In a nutshell, it basically was me being weird and making dumb jokes out of random statements to get the people to respond and tell us about themselves (Kind of like what a Youth Pastor will do). I had a reputation of weirdness now, but it worked! By the end of that free time, we were talking like we had been friends since birth. Except for Aaron. He didn’t say much at all, and I figured that was just the way he was. You know the type: quiet, doesn’t say much, seemingly shy, and too cool to talk because he was the only one with plaid shorts. He was my next project.
After the whole weirdness intro thing, I walked away from the carpetball tables with Rodney, saying, “Okay, I’m done being weird now.” Rod just laughed. We talked about different things but we stopped when Pastor Stevens approached us and asked, “Who’s up for a game of tetherball?” We agreed, but I was able to con Rodney into going first. I wasn’t scared of losing, I just………uh………. wanted ……….to…….uh……….scout out my, uh, competition before regulation. Everybody does it.
So I stood back and watched the skirmish between Rodney and Pastor Stevens. It happened as follows:
“Ready?”
SMACK!!
SLAP!!
“Whoa!!”
“haHA!!!”
WHOOSH!
“OWWWWWW!!!”
Pastor Stevens won. He was standing there, breathing heavily, a big grin spread across his face. Suddenly, he turned and yelled, “Rachel!”
Rachel turned around from the carpetball tables and called back, “Yeah?”
“Come over here!” Pastor Stevens called back.
“Yes, Sir,” she replied as she commenced walking over to us. She suddenly wished she hadn’t because Pastor Stevens apparently had the urge to completely annihilate his own daughter on the tetherball court. I won’t go into detail on how that went, except I will say that it was rather hilarious. Rachel is rather short, and Pastor Stevens is not.
Rodney and I walked away from this battle (or lack thereof) and started talking again. We stopped at the box hockey tables.
“Wanna play?” I asked.
He gave me a timid look and said, “Well, okay, but I’m not very good.” What a liar. I should probably point out that the term “liar” is not used here as an insult, but merely a statement meant to point out the ironic opposite truth that was at hand. It is ironically opposite because he put me through some of the most intense matches of box hockey I had ever played, and he beat me every time. After a few rounds, I noticed a small, miniature box hockey table, and I suggested playing on that, hoping that I could beat him on those. These games were worse than the first ones. He continued to kick my tail, all the while making me more and more determined to shatter his win streak. These games were games for the ages. Two teenagers whacking each other’s hands with small, plastic sticks trying to somehow knock a foam puck into a tiny hole in the wood. If you still don’t believe that they were intense and rough, let me shatter your suspicions by saying that I broke two of the sticks by smacking Rodney’s hand and using the handle to knock the puck into the goal. He still beat me every time. We were so engrossed in our battle, that we didn’t notice the whistle that sounded, letting all the children know that naptime was over. We continued to hit everything except the puck, and took no notice of anything else until,
“Hi, big brother, Whatcha doing?” That would be David.
I looked up and Rodney took that moment to knock the puck into my goal, the big sneak.
“Do you want some pop?” David asked me. I noticed that Rachel, Aaron, Shannon, Karis, and Rissa had also gathered round, watching our battle of broken sticks and shattered fingers. I never had realized the fans I had, and although I love to keep my fans happy, I didn’t have time to sign autographs.
“Uh, not right now, but thanks,” I told him. “I’m kind of engaged right now.” Then realizing the awkwardness of that statement, I tried to patch it up by saying, “Not to him,” and pointed at Rodney. That only made it worse, and all my fans laughed and made comments on how weird and random that was.
Kids at home, do not make awkward comments like that. Learn from my dummidity (and yes, that is a word) never ever ever ever ever ever ever ever ever ever ever ever ever ever ever ever ever ever ever ever ever ever ever ever ever ever ever ever ever ever ever ever ever ever ever ever ever ever ever ever ever ever ever ever ever ever ever ever ever ever ever ever ever ever ever ever ever ever ever ever ever ever ever ever ever ever ever ever ever ever ever ever ever ever ever ever ever ever ever ever ever ever ever ever ever ever ever ever ever ever ever ever ever ever ever ever ever ever ever ever ever ever ever ever ever ever ever ever ever ever ever ever ever ever ever ever ever ever ever ever ever ever ever ever ever ever ever ever ever ever ever ever ever ever ever ever ever ever ever ever ever ever ever ever ever ever ever ever ever ever ever ever ever ever ever ever ever ever ever ever ever ever ever ever ever ever ever ever ever ever ever ever ever ever ever ever ever ever ever ever ever ever ever ever ever ever ever ever ever ever 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It makes people think you’re weird, and you might offend someone. I didn’t, but you might. Please don’t. Okay, back to the story. I shall continue the account of that first afternoon in the next couple chapters and tell about the schedule, the different activities, and the event that immediately follows naptime: A very very crazy, insane, and mindless period of time that we at Swampy refer to as “Canteen”.