Happy Halfway-to-Halloween Day! Nah, just kidding; I have no clue if that's true or not. That's just the story Caroline and I made up if anyone asked us why we were carrying our toy swords around the marina this evening as we snuck around like rats. But maybe I'm getting ahead of myself.
It all started in the chorus room...
...
*flashback fail*
What, you guys didn't get the ripple-y view and the harp glissando? ...No? Dang. Well, all right. In chorus a few months ago, I found a metal fork on the floor of the large rehearsal room. Long story short, I dubbed it the Musical Fork of Evil, took it home, ran it through the dishwasher, slipped it into my bag, and carried it around as a self-defense apparatus for the rest of the school year. And I will do so again next year. And the next. Until I graduate from college, that fork will be my constant school-time companion. I'll sniff it when I'm lonely... (Inside joke from a public speaker that came to our school. Just don't ask.) But I digress.
This evening, in a stroke of impulsive insanity, I crept ninja-style to the edge of the balcony of our condo and chucked a slightly chocolate-crusted spoon to the marina pavement, a good four stories below us. We heard it clatter satisfyingly. By the way, I blame Caroline for that, for the birth of the Legacy (which will be explained later), and for the aforementioned sword-carrying. It was her idea. All of it was. I'm just the epically impulsive spazz that orchestrated plans that allowed us to actually go through with it all. That's us--the tactician and the general.
Sort of.
Anyway. First of all, she said as we were eating our microwaveable cake out on the balcony, "You know, I've always wanted to throw something down at the unsuspecting bicycle-riding passerby." Cue the impulsive spazz, also known as moi. (That's "mwah," for those of you who are French fails; it means "me." Which reminds me, I have a funny story about a student teacher failing with the pronunciation of "oui" in chorus. Someone remind me to tell that someday.) So what do I do? Well, just re-read the beginning of this paragraph.
And THEN she said, "Haha, remember the Musical Fork of Evil? What if we threw another spoon down there, but there was a note attached saying, 'if you find this spoon, you have been chosen! You must pass on another utensil within forty-eight hours or you will'--don't tell me you're actually going to do that--!" But it was too late. At the word "utensil," I'd turned around and made a beeline for our room, clean metal spoon in hand. The note was drafted. The location planned. The final copy of the note written, wrapped around the spoon and tied with gold-colored elastic thread. We then convinced my parents to let us have "one last marina walk." Little did they know. Then--oh, and then--Little Miss Tactician gestured to our swords. (You think she'd have learned by then.) It was official--the swords came on this our Most Epical Journey.
We crept down to the marina and tried to plant the spoon at Frosty's, the ice cream place. It was a fail--what if a little kid got it, or some creepy old man? The Legacy of the Musical Fork of Evil would die before it had begun. I said to Caroline, "A teenager has to find it. Where have we seen the most teenagers around here?" "The pool," she said instantly. The pool was in Harborside I, just down the street from us in Harborside II. I got a sparkle in my eyes. "Don't tell me we're actually going to go over there!" "We have to!"
Long story short, the spoon was planted at Harborside I's pool, and Caroline and I snuck back to the room without any further mishaps--although some people did comment on our swords, to which I muttered, "We'll just say it's Halfway-to-Halloween Day." And now, I fear, the computer must be surrendered--keep flying, guys.
~Cara
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