Some sort of network problem at Verizon cut Chateau Steelypips off from the Intenets yesterday, but that was all right, as we were hosting a party for some friends from work, and had other things to do. The weather, which had been predicted to be lousy, turned out to be fine, and a good time was had by all.
The party was a particular hit with the children of a professor from the Math department, who were absolutely enthralled with the Nerf dart gun we usually keep on the mantle, next to the samurai sword:
They spent hours shooting little Nerf darts around the yard (on one occasion getting them stuck fifteen feet up in the oak tree in the backyard. Partway through the party, the nine-year-old asked me if he could take the gun home. I told him no, as it was important to keep the gun on the mantle. “Why?” he asked, and I didn’t think he’d get the joke if I said “Because we need to fire it in the third act,” so I said the next thing that came to mind:
“We need it to defend against werewolves.” Werewolves being as good a guess as anything else for what the dog barks at every night in the back yard. This led to the following exchange later in the party (reconstructed this morning):
Nine-Year-Old: But there are no werewolves!
Me: Yes there are. Ask the dog. She barks at werewolves and vampires every night.
Nine-Year-Old: But even if there were werewolves, it shoots Nerf darts. It wouldn’t be any good.
Me: Ah, but werewolves are allergic to Nerf. It works great.
Nine-Year-Old: Werewolves aren’t allergic to Nerf!
Me: You just said there weren’t any werewolves. If there are werewolves, how do you know they’re not allergic to Nerf?
Nine-Year-Old: But you’ve got the sword.
Me: The sword is for the vampires.
Nine-Year-Old: But you could use it on the werewolves.
Me: That’s no good, because then you have to let them get close to you, and they might bite you and turn you into a werewolf.
Nine-Year-Old: But you could cut off their heads before they bite you.
Me: Ah, but that’s risky. Better to shoot them with darts from a distance. That way there’s no way they can bite you. It only takes a little scratch, you know.
Nine-Year-Old: But… but… THERE ARE NO WEREWOLVES!!
I don’t think he really bought it, but he did leave the gun behind, so the security of the house will be maintained. The dog was very relieved.
(He never stood a chance– little did he know, Kate and I have this sort of conversation all the time…)
Sheesh. Kids these days. Back in my day, everyone knew that werewolves are allergic to Nerf. What are they teaching them in schools?
Fortunately, our offices are very well protected against werewolves.
Now we just need protection against overly armed animators.
*thwap!*
OW!!!
Except, of course, in 1946 Germany.
I TRIED to convince him that it was actually space aliens that were allergic to nerf, but no one listens to me…
Well, they could be alien werewolves– some sort of Ukiah Oregon meets Sluggy Freelance crossover thing….
Lousy begging brat. I hate such children.
They teach us that two plus two is two billion, that the proper spelling of cat is K-A-T-T, and that it’s funny to pour ice water down a boy’s pants. We have to learn survival outside of school. Nerf is the new wolf’s bane! Yay!