You know the kind I mean. The ones that natives use to protect their territory. Just a slight 'whoosh' as the dart lets fly, a tse tse fly sting as it finds its mark in the great white intruder, then 'Whomp!' as the big white body hits the dirt for a peaceful little nap.
That's all I want. Is that too much to ask?
My fantasies employing said blow gun and lots of tranquilizer darts..well, these originate to when our kids first started playing soccer. When parents whose mouths were bigger than their intellects and/or knowledge of the game would spout off. Incessantly. Loudly. Creating frowns of embarrassment on the faces of their children and head shakes as the rest of us witnessed stupidity of a stunning magnitude.
I've also fantasized about elephant guns that deliver payloads of tranquilizers sufficient to render offenders unconscious for the entire soccer season. The. Entire. Season. I'm pretty sure if I passed a hat around it would come back full of cash and most likely tranquilizers. We've got a lot of doctor parents, is all I'm sayin'. We have resources.
Imagine how peaceful it would be to watch a game without their inane and ignorant commentary. Imagine how much the players would enjoy just focusing on strategy, dribbling, beating the player in front of them and fully engaging in their match in lieu of attempting to tune out the raucous input of over zealous parents, parents whose real issues stem from never having played the game and who now live vicariously through their kiddos.
Just imagine.
I can. After fifteen years of watching my kids play soccer, yearning for simply the sound of the thud of the ball being struck, of the players calling out to one another on the field accompanied by an occasional bird call on a Fall afternoon, that's what I'd like.
Hey, maybe a stun gun would do the trick!
That's all I want. Is that too much to ask?
My fantasies employing said blow gun and lots of tranquilizer darts..well, these originate to when our kids first started playing soccer. When parents whose mouths were bigger than their intellects and/or knowledge of the game would spout off. Incessantly. Loudly. Creating frowns of embarrassment on the faces of their children and head shakes as the rest of us witnessed stupidity of a stunning magnitude.
I've also fantasized about elephant guns that deliver payloads of tranquilizers sufficient to render offenders unconscious for the entire soccer season. The. Entire. Season. I'm pretty sure if I passed a hat around it would come back full of cash and most likely tranquilizers. We've got a lot of doctor parents, is all I'm sayin'. We have resources.
Imagine how peaceful it would be to watch a game without their inane and ignorant commentary. Imagine how much the players would enjoy just focusing on strategy, dribbling, beating the player in front of them and fully engaging in their match in lieu of attempting to tune out the raucous input of over zealous parents, parents whose real issues stem from never having played the game and who now live vicariously through their kiddos.
Just imagine.
I can. After fifteen years of watching my kids play soccer, yearning for simply the sound of the thud of the ball being struck, of the players calling out to one another on the field accompanied by an occasional bird call on a Fall afternoon, that's what I'd like.
Hey, maybe a stun gun would do the trick!
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