The Metal Gate

The wife and I had a little fight the other night. It’s been a while since we’ve squabbled, so it was about time really.

I don’t even remember what we were arguing about, but I know it was something stupid (the best fights are the stupid ones).

It got pretty heated and it eventually reached the point where I was going to start flipping out and saying mean things that I didn’t mean, so I decided that I just needed to end the fight real quick and walk away so that nothing escalated. So I said “fuck you,” and walked away (this is how I end fights). As I walked away I stepped through the metal child-gate we have that keeps our dog out of certain rooms. I opened it, stepped through and slammed it behind me; not shut, just slammed it.

So Mrs. Poop was like “Oh you like slamming things, do you?!” and she grabbed the gate door and was like SLAM! SLAM! SLAM! SLAM! SLAM!

Well, I wasn’t going to let her get away with that, so I grabbed the gate and did one huge incredible hulk SLAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAMMMMMMMMMMMM!!!!!!! That one ripped the gate right out of the door frame, and my wife walked away. I was glad she walked away too, because I had broken several parts of the gate with that last slam.

I ended up setting the gate aside, propping it up against a wall and not saying anything about it.

Later on, after we were no longer infuriated with one another, Mrs. Poop saw the gate and said “why do you have the gate over on the wall like that? Put it up so the dog can’t get in here,”

“I’m afraid I can’t do that,” I told her.

Then I showed her the cracked and bent pieces and we laughed. It was a pretty awesome slam, all things considered.

The next morning we went out and got a new gate.

A dream fulfilled?

Today I did something that I have always wanted to do.

It just snowed last night.

I went to the gas station on my way home from work to fill up the tank. It was pretty crowded there.

I decided that I wasn't just going to dream about it anymore and I did it. I launched a snowball at a complete stranger.

He was an older man dressed with a stern face. He gave me the impression that he was one of those people who regularly snubs his nose at people like me.

It landed on the roof of his car and bounced harmlessly past him, but the roof bounce sprayed him a bit with a little snow. He glared at me and I stared right back at him as I packed up another snowball. At another pump somewhere someone laughed.

He was still glaring at me with his angry eyes as I threw the second snowball at him. This one hit his shoulder. "You are incredibly childish," he said to me.

"And you sir are no soldier," I said, packing another one.

That's when the missle came in at me; blasted me right in the side of the head. I turned around to see some guy about my age holding his hands in the air in absolute victory.

"That't it," I said. "You're dead." I returned fire.

Before I knew it, the entire area was engaged in an all out snowball war; the volley of snowballs was so intense that it blotted out the flaurecent lighting from above. Every one was fully engaged. It was glorious.

The man who was originally victimized by my terrorism drove away as his car took damage from hundreds of snowballs as the war waged on. Eventually the police had to come and break it up.

It was a night that I can never forget... Or could never forget if I had actually done any of this.

I wish I could work up the courage to do so, but everytime I play it out in my head I assume that someone is going to get wicked pissed and fail to relive the simple childish pleasure of engaging yourself in a snowball fight. 122