I was going to blow off the second part of my 4th of July story, Revenge of the Cheerleaders. Since I had all the computer problems, I assumed everyone had forgotten about the whole thing. The many comments I received, 2, and the email, 1, re-enforced the idea that absolutely no one is even reading this aside from the 5 people on my AIM Buddy List. I did include my website in an e-mail reply to all those helpful people at Dell Tech Support@Dell.mentallychallenged.com who’d thoughtfully e-mailed me while my computer was out of commission. Alas, they showed no interest in hearing the rest of the story either. However, I got a phone call from my sister-in-law and she wanted to know what happened with the cheerleaders?? She’s not even on my Buddy List, so this one’s for Robin.
Revenge of the Cheerleaders
In 2002, it was not surprising that President Bush did not join us. He was busy protecting the country from terrorists, the national press was busy covering his protecting the country from terrorists, and the Secret Service was busy protecting President Bush and moving Dick Cheney from one undisclosed location to another.
Because we needed a break from watching the Terror Alert Color Code swing from puce to fuchsia everytime someone had pancakes at Shoney's, we were locked and loaded as the parade began. Our yard population had doubled because now it seemed that even rank strangers wanted to provide moral support and voluble cheering in solidarity with the water war. We’d soaked my youngest son’s T-Ball team, after we put him on the float, of course, several gymnasts, and six new trucks from the car dealership, when the first group of cheerleaders turned onto the parade route. They began inching down the street waving triumphantly holding Super-Soakers again. We‘d assumed they‘d leave them at home since we didn‘t spray unless sprayed upon, but they were chillingly defiant in the water-gun waving department. We’d forgotten one very crucial bit of strategic planning and that is attractive girls wearing short skirts can talk men into just about anything if they wave their pom-poms the right way. We were momentarily puzzled when they fired the first volley, but merrily sprayed away with our pressure sprayers.
To our abject horror, the firemen on the fire truck, cheerleaders always ride on the fire trucks, began unrolling their hoses and unleashed the full fire-fighting capabilities of our fair hamlet on the astonished and soon sopping wet crowd in our front yard. We were like the Taliban attempting to battle U. S. Special Forces in Afghanistan and the firemen didn‘t wait until after Ramadan to attack us either. An unimaginable force had been pitted against us and the rank strangers quickly melted into other sidewalks and yards down the block like rats abandoning ship.
We were also caught on the horns of a terrible dilemma. With 9/11 still fresh in our minds, we loved our firefighters when they weren’t soaking us to the skin and wrestled with our obligations. We wanted to stand in the yard and clap ourselves silly for their service to our community, yet having a fire hose unleashed upon your person is rather daunting. I am not ashamed to say that most of us ran into or behind the house and cowered like the cowardly dogs we were. However, aside from the interior of the house, there was literally no place to hide because who can escape the dreaded reach of an unleashed fire hose and a determined, lust-crazed fireman?
In June 2003, we were contemplating the purchase of mini-skirts and pom-poms in an attempt to roll up the fire hoses, blissfully unaware that a sinister force was at work in our fair community. A group of individuals, collectively know as Jabbering Attorney-wielding Camera Kooks Against Super Soakers, or JACKASS, were working behind the scenes to ruin the parade for every one.
Part III: Bummer! will be published here if someone who is NOT on my AIM Buddy List requests it. Otherwise, I'll finish it on AIM.
Update: The last time I hung out with Aunt ML, she used the term "rank strangers" and I realized I had missed it so much it needed to be included here. The family motto is, as always, use it three times and it's yours. If any rank strangers are reading this, I've just used it for the 4th time to make sure it's still mine.
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