Sunday, October 28, 2007


She seemed a bit disappointed when I told her that it was only going to be a prank.

“But sir, I can get a real gun,” she said, “They don’t know it, but I have two. And I don’t like the Master Gunnery Sergeant.” The gleam in her eyes reminded me that she has been seeing a psychiatrist. I pretended not to notice. “Can I at least hit him?” she asked.

“No,” I said, “We just want to scare him.”

While the Master Gunnery Sergeant and I are inside the office, you start a commotion outside the door. I’ll have one of the sergeants try to stop you. He’ll shout. Then we’ll need something to make a loud blast—perhaps a firecracker. Kick the door, and then burst inside waving the gun at him.

Game day:

The Master Gunnery Sergeants sprung to alert when he heard the commotion outside. Then the door flung open, followed by a short wild-haired woman wielding a pistol. I jumped from my chair, just in case I needed to intercept him from challenging her.

“You knew this day was coming Master Gunnery Sergeant!” she screamed, “You ruined my life!”

She then swung in my direction.

“No, no!” I yelled—pointing at the master gunnery sergeant, “Shoot him first!”

The look on his face was priceless.