Water Balloon Adventures: Round II
Many people believe Winston Churchill coined this famous phrase “A lie can travel halfway around the world before the truth can tie its shoes.”
What many don’t know is that the quote was lost in translation. What he meant to say was “A water balloon can make it halfway through the Greek System before Delta Upsilon has any fucking idea what is going on.”
It just flows better, don’t you think?
Date: Summer, 2000
Location: Alley between 17th and 18th
Target: Delta Upsilon, 19th avenue, front door
Battalion: 101st Balloon Force Division
“A little to the left,” said RED, “and hold it higher, Floss.”
Delta Upsilon was having a party.
“Tell HotPocket to hold it lower; I’m not 6’4.”
HotPocket lowered his end of the water balloon launcher. RED clasped a water balloon in the pouch and pulled back, forming a giant rubber sling shot.
“How am I looking, Spot?” RED asked their spotter, Spot, who always got picked as spotter because, well, he has good vision.
“You’re perfect – let her rip!”
RED gave one last tug and let go of the pouch. The balloon sailed skyward and was instantly lost in the dark night sky. Eagerly they dashed forward to watch the impact from between two houses.
Plop.
“Far left; dammit, Spot.”
“What? It looked good. Fuck you guys – you were holding wrong.”
If you think water balloon launching is so easy an arm-less fetus could do it, you’d be wrong. The fetus has to be at least in the third trimester and have developed enough vocal chord cells to say, and I quote, “Booyah.”
The following diagram should help you picture the science of balloon launching:
Water balloons are best launched 1.5 to 2.5 alleys away from your desired target. For the 101st Balloon Force Division, this was Delta Upsilon (DU). The idea is to be out of sight from your intended mark and have someone standing in front of you that can see both the target and the launchers. This person is called the “Spotter.”
Requirements of the Spotter:
• No worse than 30/20 eye sight.
• Under 0.15% Blood Alcohol Content.
• Cognitive functionality.
• Penis.
The most important person in the launching team is the shooter. In this case it was RED, who was given the prestigious position after saying the following important phrase: “Give me the fucking launcher; I’m shooting.”
It’s not easy being the shooter:
• No worse than 30/20 eye sight.
• Under 0.15% Blood Alcohol Content.
• Cognitive functionality.
• Penis.
• Being able to say “Give me the fucking launcher; I’m shooting” before anyone else.
You’ll need two holders. Holders are the strongest of the crew and must be able to decipher complex commands from the shooter such as “higher” and “left a little bit” and “I said left a little bit, cock munch.”
What a holder is made of:
• Connected muscle fibers.
• Skin to contain connected muscle fibers.
• Desire to giggle stupidly.
• More focused on drinking heavily than actually hitting target.
• Ability to blame shooter for every miss even though it was probably their fault.
Lastly, you need HandSanitzer or an equally humorously-named friend to stand around and remind you how gay DUs are. This position on the launching team is greatly underappreciated, especially when you look at the requirements:
HandSanitizing necessities:
• Ability to rhyme target’s name with “chokes on dick.”
• Ability to make fun of target with clever pop culture reference.
• Ability to compare launching team to various forms of livestock if launching team begins to lose enthusiasm.
• Ability to ease tension with Borat quote “(target)’s vagine hang like sleeve of wizard.”
Back to the battle:
“Alright, there’s like ten guys by the front door; guaranteed you’ll hit one,” Spot said. They wasted no time. Floss and HotPocket assumed their positions, RED loaded the pouch, and HandSanitzer listed off ways the ‘U’ in DUs could be turned into “poos.”
RED let the balloon fly.
It was majestic.
It was breathtaking.
It was every synonym listed for “awesome” on thesaurus.com.
“How the fuck did we miss?” Floss asked. He hadn’t even seen the water balloon land.
“Fucking shit Spot, live up to your name for once,” RED said.
“Were we even in the vicinity of Delta Poopsilons?”
“Hey,” said HandSanitzer, “that’s my job.”
They were beginning to lose hope. Even the hanging vagine couldn’t help them now. Their Safeway bag of balloons was being rapidly depleted, but mainly because HandSanitzer kept trying to peg the supposed “Super Rats” that roamed the Greek System.
“Ummmmm…run,” said Spot.
“Why?”
“Because we didn’t miss.”
And then Floss saw it: Mr. I-Wish-I-Had-Big-Muscles-So-I-Wear-Small-Shirts-To-Make-My-Tiny-Arms-Look-Bigger stormed around the side of the house. The front of his extra small gray t-shirt soaked.
“Wow – nice shot,” said HandSanitzer.
Then, Small Shirt Guy pointed at them. Although there was no way in hell he could see the 101st Balloon Force Division in the darkness a hundred feet away, he’d figured out the approximate location, gathered six friends, and embarked upon Operation Find, Intimidate, but Never Actually Do Anything Because We’re Pussies.
Nevertheless, Floss and Co. ran. Why? Because it’s fun, and even if they fought and kicked DU’s asses they’d probably still get punched at least once, and eating the University’s salty food with even the tiniest cut in your mouth sucks a fat one.
As they sprinted down the alley Floss caught glimpses of the DUs rapidly advancing. The alley was too long. They’d have to hide.
“Up here!” Floss shouted.
A dumpster was parked next to a one-story, one-car parking garage. Floss hopped up, clung to the gutter and pulled himself on to the roof. The DUs would never find them up there.
“Check it out – broken water balloons!”
Orangutan and his fucking super rats…Floss thought.
“There’s more over here!”
They were in the alley. Floss heard their footsteps and vague, drunken threats get closer and closer as they followed the trail of water balloon shrapnel. They stopped right below him.
Floss was lying next to HandSanitzer, RED and Spot were on their backs across from them, and HotPocket was…oh God…
“I’m seriously going to beat ass,” Small Shirt Guy kept saying.
HotPocket started to shift around…
“Where could they have gone?”
HotPocket got to his knees…
“They could have just bolted inside some house and we’d never find ‘em.”
HotPocket reached for the Safeway bag…
“Or shot from a window.”
HotPocket’s grin was entirely too large…
“Are you sure it came from this way?”
HotPocket was crouched and ready.
“Fuck it,” said Small Shirt Guy, “let’s go back and drink.”
Thank God.
They left the alley and began crossing the street back to their house. Floss breathed a sigh of relief. HotPocket would have to wait until next time.
From RED and Spot’s corner came frantic whispering. Floss didn’t need to ask why.
HotPocket sprang to his feet, readied his arm, and let a balloon fly. With the amount of arc he put on it there was no way it would hit. It sailed over the highest power lines before beginning its descent. Flying over trees and parked cars alike the balloon landed safely…in the center of Small Shirt Guy’s back.
Ok, fine – it was hilarious.
Small Shirt Guy began stomping and pumping his fists like some irate Lego man. Leaving the others behind, he sprinted towards the alley. He would need no water balloon shrapnel to find them this time. Floss disregarded the dumpster and jumped to the asphalt, bolting down the alley until he and the others hit the main road, never once looking back at their pursuers.
“Floss?” HandSanitzer asked between heavy breaths. “Where’s HotPocket?”
They were alone. No Delta Poopsilons, no HotPocket, no Super Rats. Shrugs all around.
“Main house?”
“Main house.”
Floss and the others cautiously made their way back to their fraternity via back roads. When they arrived they asked around for any word on HotPocket. Nothing. Everyone thought he was with Floss. They sat on the porch wondering about the fate of their brave, outrageously stupid companion.
“Pretty great that he hit the same guy though, right?” RED asked. “We should write a story about this,” Spot suggested. “Only if there’s a good ending,” Floss said. “Writing about HotPocket’s broken nose isn’t exactly…oh shit…”
A car pulled up. A car Floss recognized from driving past the DU parking lot on his way to work every day. The passenger door opened.
“Howdy, fuckers!” shouted HotPocket. He wished the driver well and shook hands through the back window with Small Shirt Guy. Sweaty and smiling, he plopped down next to RED on the front porch steps.
“How? Seriously, how?”
“Told ‘em it was Sigma Nu; just got back from helping them get revenge. Good times!”
Spot patted Floss on the shoulder.
“How’s that for an ending?”
Go to Alex's Official Site, www.AlexBash.com
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Sometimes The Imbible and I watch the sunrise.
Alex Bash is author of The Imbible: Drinking Games for Times You’ll Never Remember with Friends You’ll Never Forget, currently available for pre-order on amazon.com. It hits shelves August 5th, and is not responsible for your lowered GPA and standards.
In contrast to his general belligerence, Alex works at a hospital where he saves lives, which he likes to remind people is no big deal. He can say otolaryngology in three languages and knows more about the Orbitofrontal Cortex than is necessary for someone who is not, technically, a doctor. He enjoys bubblegum toothpaste, strawberry Pop Tarts, and bench press.
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Pretty Much Daily Quote
"A drunk man's words are a sober man's thoughts...except slurred, deragatory, and covered in Mexican food."
~ Alex Bash, 2008
Blog
Letting Yourself be Overwhelmed
(7/16/08) Sometimes life can be overwhelming, and even all the beer in the world can't help. It's at time like these you need to let yourself be overwhelmed, even if only for a moment, and then fight back against the forces that be.
Also, you should switch to hard liquor, because it gets you drunk faster.
Growing Up
(7/9/08)Sometimes when I look back at my life and the things I’ve done and been in to over the years, I get sad because I know I’ll never possess that level of ignorance. I’ll never be able to be the young and blissful without knowing that at least part of it is an act. The silliness will never be as silly, the goofiness never as goofy, and Saturday morning cartoons will become infinitely less entertaining without the addition of either nudity or cursing.
Then again, I can now legally drink myself into oblivion by my own free will, get a blowjob in the bar’s bathroom stall, and watch the sun rise from the top of a water tower I’m finally strong enough to climb.
Maybe growing up isn’t so bad.
Drinking with my best friends: Imbible, Imbible, Imbible, and Steve.
I really wish I could remember where this was taken.
People have told me this picture encapsulates who I am. Not sure what to think of that.
My editor sent me an extra large digital copy of The Imbible. I brought it to Canada with me...eh.
When in Rome, do as a frat boy does when he has ten minutes to get drunk for a date function.
Undefeated, naturally.
Synopsis
What do you do when you wake up in an unfamiliar neighborhood hand-cuffed to a fire hydrant, clothed in nothing but socks and pink nail polish, your hand clutching a stained legal document…written in French? Celebrate! You just had a great night! And to think—it all started with The ImBible.
Praise for The Imbible
"The Imbible introduces Bash as a major new talent in the genre of 'books most likely to make you run through campus naked…'" – Officer Hernandez
"A stunning debut by that guy who kept us up 'til 4am with drunken choruses of Wonder Wall..." - The Sorority Next Door
"A moving story about a college freshman eventually finding his pants from last night." - Overpaid Lobbyist
"No, but really, the book is hilarious. He's a seriously funny author." – Guy who is taking this way too seriously
"I have not woken up before noon since Alex wrote this book. I'm not sure if this is a good or bad thing." – Alex's roommate
Sample Games
Why You Should Buy The Imbible
If you feel bad buying a book about drinking, just cover up the first 5 letters.
The U.S. Marines’ first recruiting station was in a bar. The Marines kill bad people. Are you pro bad people?
Because if you don’t remember how you got the scar, you can make up as manly as story as you like.
18 games of beer pong is a scapegoat for anything.
THE IMBIBLE is guaranteed to lower your standards in 5 chapters or less!
Random Quotes from The Imbible
Emotions can definitely run high, so it's in your best interest to drink yourself numb.
Can you get a DUI riding a bike around the playground? I think not!
It’s only a matter of time before we’re boning fat chicks and singing-along to American Pie.
Note: Gold Medals do not prevent whiskey dick.
Whether you wear pants or not when you do this is on you.
I hope God doesn't count this night against me.
Pre-gaming a career fair.
Sometimes The Imbible and I do the Can-Can at 4am and then wake up in the front lawn clutching three empty bottles of champagne.