Last weekend was fraught with fire and fighting. I drove to Indiana, and later in the day we decided to go to the park. We went to go pickup Patrick, who lives in Michigan,
and by the time we got to the park, it was closed.
Instead of crying like little sissy pansy baby weaklings, we just lit up a fire in a driveway, like all normal people do. It was a pretty nice fire, and it had a nice long
burn. (A little too long!) It's nice how the radiation from the fire distorted all of our faces!
We roasted marshmallows, or should I say -I- roasted marshmallows. The other two made Olympic torches out of theirs. Mine, however, were golden brown. I tell you, it's a
lost tradition. Anyway, after getting sick on marshmallows, what do you do? Why you sword fight in the dark of course!
Here we see Patrick and I maiming each other in almost total darkness. Now a safe person wouldn't fight in the dark, but they're just sissies! He's wielding a staff, and
I'm dual-wielding two swords. You'll notice my leg was cut off. Doh! (See the pretty white strip on my pull-over?)
Eventually, we ended the night and went to bed. The end. (Impressive, I know.)