Captain's Log, Day 128: The Midway Golfing Incident

          Mom and Dad were gone on date night.
          Food had been eaten.
          The Midway siblings were looking for a game to play, but bored with the usual entertainments.
          That's when Radar (the typical instigator of new adventures) came up with an idea in his predictably crazy manner.
          "Let's play golf! I found Dad's golf bag yesterday when I was cleaning out the garage!"
          Quill looked dubious. "Yeah, I'm thinking not. We're not allowed outside, remember?"
          "Plus, we have no idea how to play golf," Nemesis pointed out.
          Radar waved their objections away. "Puh-leeze. We play indoor golf--like, say, downstairs--and I think we can figure the rules out."
          "You hit a ball into the hole. Right?" Squirrel asked.
          "Yeah, and then challenge other people's shots if they're too good," Radar expounded eagerly. "The loser has to put his ball back."
          "How do you know who the loser is?" Quill asked.
          "You duel," Radar explained, as if it was the most obvious thing in the world.
          "Uhh...I don't think that's how it works," Nemesis began.
          "Please. They're called clubs," Radar snorted. "What else would they be good for?"
          Such logic was unassailable. The others quickly dispersed to collect the clubs. Nemesis, by good fortune, remembered a small mini-golf practice mat that would serve well as their hole. The siblings retired to the basement to set up their course, sticking the hole halfway down the furnace room hallway and started two corners away, over in the TV room.
          Radar opened up the festivities, as befitted the mastermind. His shot bounced off the couch and rolled to a stop next to the bookcases. Quill's shot was a bit worse; she hit the couch as well, but hers ricocheted backwards, netting her about three feet of gain. Nemesis's shot was far better; he managed to skim between the couch and coffee table, ending up in the great room with almost a straight shot to the hole.
          "I challenge that!" Radar yelled and lunged at his brother. The outcome seemed inevitable, as Radar was the better of the two at swordfighting; but the eldest got cocky and tried to get fancy with a spin/thrust combination. Nemesis slid under his guard and clocked him across the side of his leg.
          "You win," Radar grumbled, rubbing his thigh.
          "In that case...I CHALLENGE!!" Quill whooped, charging her brother. After a brief clashing of clubs, Quill managed to graze Nemesis's arm, earning her the win and forcing Nemesis to retake his shot. He missed this one, bouncing it over to where Radar's ball lay.
          Squirrel, being the non-violent person that she was, decided to quietly take her shot while the eldest siblings yelled at each other. She'd previously been amusing herself by taking pictures of the unfolding conflict, getting some marvelous pictures of the sword--er, club-fight. It was discovered later, upon examination of the pictures, that the fight had taken place next to some rather breakable picture frames, but thanks to insane luck and divine intervention, none of them had been taken out in the fracas. Her shot actually went further than her older sister's, but not by much.
          Radar opened up round two by banking his shot off the game cupboard and getting it behind the trampoline leaning up against the wall. As he'd previously declared it illegal to move any furniture, it was decreed that he would have to play it where it lay. Needless to say, his siblings refused to challenge his shot, leaving him no choice but to concede. Quill couldn't navigate the couch again, bouncing it over to the bookshelves. Nemesis smacked his off the cupboard and down the hall, almost to the hole. This was such an unreasonably good shot that Radar screeched, "CHALLENGE!" and charged. This time, a quick twirl-thrust combination on Radar's part planted his club's head firmly in his brother's stomach, netting him a win. Nemesis retook his shot, duplicating his earlier feat. Quill challenged him; Nemesis defeated her handily, letting him keep his position. Squirrel stayed stuck behind the couches, possibly by design; the bloodthirstiness of her siblings was a constant source of wonder for her, and she possessed the swordfighting capabilities of a sick sponge (she preferred pretending to be the cook whenever they played pirates or Robin Hood, so she never practiced the noble art).
          For round three, Radar managed to clip his ball weakly and roll it about halfway down the hall to the hole. Quill and Nemesis promptly challenged him...simultaneously.
          "Oh, come on!" Radar protested in a volume that would have been heard over a jet's engines. "How is this legal?"
          "Nowhere in the rules says it isn't!" Quill pointed out, parrying a thrust.
          Radar looped a strike over his head towards his brother, cancelling it midway to block a jab from Quill. "We've been making up the rules, you doofus!"
          "Exactly! Oof!" Nemesis pointed out cheerfully, before taking a club to the midsection. Radar grazed Quill on the arm moments later, ending the contest and glaring at Squirrel. "Are you going to challenge me too?"
          Squirrel held up her hands in the universal sign for "Do I look like an idiot?"
          Quill made it to the mouth of the hallway. Nemesis missed the hole. Squirrel stayed safely put behind her couch barricade, snapping pictures.
          Radar missed the hole. Quill missed the hole. Nemesis missed the hole. Squirrel stayed behind the couches. For the next five rounds.
          "Got it!" Radar finally announced triumphantly, spinning to confront his siblings. Given the the hallway was too narrow for them to attack him together and given the deranged light in their eldest sibling's eye, they opted for the path of sanity and lengthened life expectancy and declined to challenge him.
          Squirrel gave up. Quill and Nemesis took repeated shots at the hole. Quill finally made it about ten shots later. Nemesis challenged her; for a wonder, Quill won, leaving Nemesis to take repeated shots at the hole, getting madder and madder. Finally, he scooped up the ball, slammed it in the hole, and yelled, "STAY THERE!!"
          His siblings were convulsed with laughter on the floor. Nemesis gave them the evil eye.
          "We should play again," Radar suggested when he caught his breath.
          "We can't," Quill told him, a little sadly. "Mom and Dad are supposed to be back soon."
          Radar sighed. Well they knew Mom and Dad's prohibitions against anything remotely fun, such as indoor golf. "We should clean up, then," he lamented.
          And clean up they did...so well, in fact, that Mom and Dad didn't know about the game for several years; until Radar mischievously put some of the pictures in his brother's graduation slideshow.
          Needless to say, their mother did not approve. Fortunately, the statute of limitations of punishment had expired on the event!!

Captain's Log, Day 127: Any Port in a Storm!

          I've always loved catching small furry things. Actually, I've loved catching basically anything that moves, which has proved interesting on the occasions I've gone after snakes, spiders, and wild cats. (I'm surprised I still have a face.) I've even caught birds and bats. Today, though, I looked out the window to see a cat stalking a chipmunk, one animal I've never yet managed to get my hands on. (The chipmunk, not the cat.)
          "Nemesis!" I yelled for my brother, forgetting that most of the house was asleep. "Wanna catch a chipmunk?"
          My brother was game. I snatched up some gloves (I'd been bitten by more things than I care to remember, and I was finally learning to avoid the biting) and barreled out the door, Nemesis in my wake. In our excitement, we both forgot to grab shoes.
          It was a little brisk, making me glad I'd worn jeans. Nemesis and I raced around the side of the house towards the garden, pulling up short when we saw the cat and his prey...sitting side by side.
          "Okay, that's just embarrassing," I muttered. "I thought he'd have grabbed it, at least."
          "I thought it would have been dead," Nemesis muttered back.
          "Nah," I returned, making a wide circle and beginning to creep up on the chipmunk. "The cats usually play with them for a while before killing them."
          "Still ridiculous," Nemesis snorted.
          My hands had almost closed around the chipmunk, who seemed out of breath, when he decided to bolt. I yelped; Nemesis moved to cut him off, and we charged after him. The cat finally decided to get off his lazy kiester and join us as well.
          Nemesis chased the chipmunk (whom I privately named Munky) out of the garden. The cat headed him into a bush. The three of us gathered around it, peering through the branches. There were no leaves yet, but it was still a lot to try to see through.
          "Where'd he go?" I wondered aloud.
          "There." Nemesis pointed. "He's on the branch."
          Munky had indeed climbed higher and was peering out at us. I hoped he would come a little higher, thus putting him in reach of me, but the cat chose that moment to try to bat at him. The chipmunk spooked and made a flying leap out of the bushes towards the front of the house. Nemesis almost snagged him, but he ducked into another clump of bushes. We harried him around the front of the house, towards the driveway. He made a hard left at the corner and shot out in front of the garage.
          The cat gave up. Nemesis and I were made of sterner stuff. Our fingers brushed him multiple times as we snatched at him and yelled orders at each other, but despite our persistence, he cleared the garage. That's about when I realized what Munky's objective was.
          "The woods!" I yelled. "He's going for the woods! We gotta cut him off before he gets there or we're never gonna get him!"
          Nemesis chased him around the side of a tree. I charged the border and got between Munky and the woods. He barreled straight towards me; I dropped to my knees and sat on my heels right in front of him. He dodged my hands, barreled straight between my legs, and slammed full-tilt into my feet.
          I guess his next thought was Hey, any port in a storm!
          "YEEEEEIIIIIIIIIIIIAAHHHHHHHHHH!!!!!!!!!" I screeched, springing up and grabbing at my thigh.
          "What?" Nemesis demanded.
          "He's IN MY PANTS!!!" I shrieked, dancing around and clutching the limb to prevent the errant beast from climbing any further. "GET OUT GET OUT GET OUT!!!!"
          Munky obliged, shooting out of my pant leg and vanishing into the woods. I glared after him.
          "He's on the tree there," Nemesis pointed.
          "Ahh, to heck with him. He wins," I conceded with poor grace, muttering unkind things about Munky's parentage as we turned to walk back to the house.
          "Did he really go up your pants?" Nemesis asked, trying to conceal his grin.
          The humor of the event suddenly struck me. I giggled. "Yes," I replied solemnly. "I had a chipmunk in my pants."
          We were still laughing about it ten minutes later.