Where Splatter Counts

The twins emerged from the dilapidated building. Irma carried a bowl of Weetbix and Emma a jug of warm milk.

Where's the big wuss who wants mushy Weetbix? asked Irma.

Here, said Sweezus. Thanks. And just for the record, I'm no wuss. I've got TOOTHACHE.

Are you here to play paintball? asked Emma.

Yes we are, said Belle et Bonne.

I don't want him on my team, said Irma, pointing at Sweezus.

Nor do I, echoed Emma.

Now, now, girls, said Professor Freud, coming up behind them. There are only six of us here. He will have to be on somebody's team. We'll draw straws.

They drew straws. It was Irma, Emma and Sweezus against Marie, Belle et Bonne and Professor Freud.

Do you even know how to play? Irma asked Sweezus, as they climbed into their overalls.

Course I do, said Sweezus. Just give me the balls.

First we need our guns, tanks and hoppers, said Emma. And we must test the balls.

Why? asked Sweezus.

Some of our paintballs are old, said Emma. We drop them on concrete to see if they burst. Also, we need to show you the dead zone.

Where's the dead zone? asked Sweezus.

Over there, said Irma. And the boundaries are here, here and here.

Okay, said Sweezus. I'm ready.

They hid.

I'm going out! said Sweezus.

No wait! said Irma, attempting to pull him back.

Too late! Marie leaned out from behind a large barrel and splattered him with red paint. Irma was splattered as well.

Sweezus! said Irma. You idiot!

It's okay, said Sweezus airily. Splatter doesn't count as a hit.

Irma looked prim. That's not what Professor Freud thinks, she said.