This for Wednesday Write-in #52.
Paintball! Don’tcha just love it. The lads decided on it last night. In the pub. Five pints to the wind. It’s gonna be “last man standing”. None of this soft teamwork stuff. After all, most of us have seen action in ‘Stan or Iraq.
Susie will go along with it – get me out of the house, out of her hair; give her a chance to get on with the housework and doing her mothering bit. I’d just get in the way. She’ll say, “Great way to exercise and get rid of that unwanted aggression”. I always have a laugh when she talks about aggression. What a load of bollocks! Assertive, that’s what I am. They taught us to be that in the army. “It ain’t an effing pea-shooter that, it’s an effing killing machine. Point it at the effing towel-head and assert yourself. Let him know who’s effing boss!” Yeah, assertive! Two esses and one tee; I learnt how to spell it.
Nah, the lad’s will tell you, “That Pete Dobson, he ain’t aggressive. Assertive, that’s what he is. But only when there’s an issue. Otherwise, most of the time, he’s a pussycat, yeah, a pussycat. And ain’t we all assertive when there’s an issue. Only way to resolve things. Be assertive.”
Aggressive! She talks through her arse sometimes. Been reading too many woman’s magazines. I seen them tucked away under the mattress. All that agony aunt crap – “Dear Marjorie” and all that. “Dear Marjorie, My husband gets angry and hits us, blah, blah, blah. What can I do?” It’s bollocks. So I throw them in the bin. Effing garbage! I told her not to read that sort of crap anymore. She says she won’t. That’s nice when they sees they done wrong and apologise. She can be good like that. Only if I ever catch her at it again, she’ll know who wears the trousers in this family; she’ll know what “aggression” really means.
So, yeah, paintball. Tuesday evening. Start at seven and go through until ten. Sudden death. Last man standing. So we may finish early. Hope so. I always feel revitalized after paintball and it’s good to get home and find the kids in bed and me and Susie can fool around a little. She really likes it when I’m fired up like that.
Especially next Tuesday when I’m gonna be “last man standing”. It’s a cert. Some of those lads are gonna get what’s coming to them. They’re actually a load of pratts. I mean how many times haven’t they organized some footy or a night out and not invited me. Selfish fuckers. It’s just lucky that I was in the pub last night so they hardly leave me out. The shits.
So, Tuesday night, paintball. Except I’ve still got my army pistol. And it ain’t no pea-shooter. Me? Last man standing, for sure.