TToML 3: Pop Goes the Weasel

Junior year. Probably winter, so 2011. Living in 109 at RG with Lindsay and McKensey.

Back story: Freshman year, Lindsay and Marjorie liked to show off their skill of being able to pop people with dishtowels. It was horrible. I wish I could tell you the number of welts I got that year from a towel. There was one towel in particular that was a favorite for popping: the Texas towel. It had a cute little Texas design on it, but that is not why it was the favorite. One corner was very frayed and another had a big thick hem corner that was hanging loosely by a few threads, both of which made this towel a lovely popping weapon. Sophomore year we constantly had to hide this towel, mainly from Lindsay who used her powers for only evil, and usually it was in another apartment.

So, junior year I thought we were long past popping towels. Usually Lindsay would just pop it towards the fridge to stay in practice and my skin was safe. ...Not so.

One evening I was digging through the fridge, searching for something I could possibly make into a scanty meal, when I sensed a presence behind me. Then I felt the absolute worst stinging sensation right on my bum, simultaneous with a loud, cracking *POP*

Holy crap, I cannot tell you how much that hurt. I know it sounds like I was just being a pansy, but when someone pops you perfectly with a towel right smack in the middle of a butt cheek, it hurts like the dickens.

After I screamed and flipped around to see if I'd been shot, I found Lindsay standing there with a towel in her hand, laughing. Unfortunately for Lindsay, I was not in the playful mood. I was not in the merciful mood. I was not in the forgiving mood. And I did not find it funny.

I must have had a really bad day or something because without even thinking my primeval instincts kicked in and I pounced at Lindsay as if she were a saber-tooth tiger, with a face like this:

and with an open hand, I hit her as hard as I possibly could.

As I stood there, chest heaving, trying to catch my breath from that huge sudden rush of adrenaline, Lindsay screamed in pain and McKensey stared at what had just happened in utter shock and disbelief. And then I realized what happened.

Yes. I turned into a two year old and I hit her. 

No. Not one of my proudest moments.

But it was too late. The damage was done. Lindsay had a red imprint of my hand on her arm and I had a fatty red welt on my butt. Thankfully the damage wasn't permanent and after we both cooled down we decided not to hate each other. And now this is one of our favorite times to recall. To this day we still laugh hysterically at the mental picture of me turning into a cave woman and viciously attacking my prey.