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The Great Club Scud M&M War! |
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A HAPPY LITTLE NEAR DEATH EXPERIENCE |
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Party 'Til You Puke! |
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The Great Club Scud M&M War!
Creative
 Created on 9-5-07
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 Story Rating G
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Of course, not everything that happens in war is disastrous, and not all fighting is especially violent. Boredom becomes an enemy, a state of being that fills the emptiness of time, heart, home and hope. If a movie was to truly tell the story of war there would be an exciting scene every now and then, the rest of the celluloid would be smeared with copious amounts of boredom.A bunch of us were sitting around the tent waiting for the nothing that was bound to happen soon. Sucking on Tootsie Pops and Jolly Ranchers; Munching on the M&M’s and “Desert Bars” that filled the bellies and rotted the teeth so far away from where they really wanted to be. Nursing 1½-liter water bottles, wishing they were equally tall cool Mt Dews back in the world. Watching the small oscillating fan for excitement and wishing it could do more than just move the hot air around.In the midst of such high times a soldier cracks open another bottle. Looking at the fan, he tosses the cap; the cap ricocheted off the spinning device, striking one of his bored buddies.“Hey, that was kind of cool,” announced the cap casualty and returns fire with an M&M, hitting yet another combatant.The rest of the tenants of “Club Scud[i]” engaged the fan with whatever confection happened to make itself available. Soldiers sought cover, as the projectile sweets pelted them in a barbaric frenzy. Suddenly, to the horror of all around him, a soldier pulls from his arsenal a weapon of mass destruction. In a desperate attempt at gaining the upper hand he rushes the fan and empties an entire packet of MRE M&M’s directly onto it.The others realize to their horror that there was no protection to be found. No cover, no cot, not even a poncho could spare them from casualty status from this most oppressive of maneuvers. Melting in neither hand nor mouth, the shrapnel found and made its mark. Never again will they view those twin M’s on a package as simple marketing again.With a hush, all humanity ceased. The Geneva Convention and its promise of fair fighting were trampled into the ground. A solitary soldier upped the ante beyond all that is civilized in a cultured society. One, shedding all restraint, shunning the very code of conduct that he had learned and passed to subordinates for so many years, calmly approached the oscillating appliance. In his hand, the very lifeblood of desert survival, the icon that would represent the entire war, in his hand he held… a water bottle.With that bottle he sought an end to the mêlée, with him as the undisputable victor. Relying on the gravity of the situation, and rebuffing the power, which animated the fan, he tipped the bottle. The deadly flow assaulted the propeller. The fan, in a vain attempt to absolve itself of the onslaught rejected the water, banishing it from its presence, but the damage had been done. The horror unleashed!!Screams of agony, shrieks of anguish and yelps of helplessness filled the air. All present looked around them. The carnage was far too weighty for them to take in all at once. The M&M Battle of Club Scud was at an end, the water bearer stood sneering, knowing his attack had bought victory, but at what cost?We all survived the battle, though the true scars would not be known until after the war when everyone went back to the world and their lives. To this day, no 4th of July parade can be endured flinchlessly by any of the survivors of that sticky situation. The most innocent of Independence Day traditions is of course the candy thrown from fire truck, float and clown car. Children risk all to beat their peers to the punch flavored Salt Water Taffy. For us, that innocence is gone!The sight of the projectiles, as they zing past our ears!In the background we hear the pulsating “Whomp! Whomp! Whomp!” of small fans cooling naive civilians of the curbside crowd. We break out in sweat! Hallucinations of tents, cots and fan (oh the FAN!!) replace the sights and sounds of the celebration around us. We try to hide from the specter but, just as there was no cover or concealment from the water bearer’s assault all those years ago, there is no hiding from……… THE CANDY!
[i] : CLUB SCUD was the name we gave the GP Medium that fended off the elements in this particular corner of the desert; Whether our tent, or the club that appeared within the panels of a well-known comic strip, was thus dubbed first, is still a matter of argument.
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