It's All in the Wrist

Note the perfect wadding technique.

Today, I'm STILL eating salt water taffy; and still laughing about what happened to all those candy wrappers.

It went kind of like this: John and I and Terese and Greg were heading back from the beach. We had stopped at a candy shop on the way out. G and T wanted to give their bag of candy away as souvenirs, but I knew what I wanted to do with my hefty bag full of treats.

I wanted to eat 'em all the way home.

So as soon as we were rolling, I opened the bag and offered everyone a taffy.

No, thanks, everyone said politely.

I knew better. So I plucked my first yummy molasses salt water taffy morsel from the bag and unwrapped it. Mmmmm. Tooth-sticky deliciousness....I saw an empty plastic grocery bag on the floor of the car and hooked it over the cup holder to act as a garbage container.

Put your wrappers in here, I told Terese, pointing at the empty bag. Because even though she wasn't eating any candy at that point, I knew without a doubt that she would be soon. I was right. Seconds later she had her mouth full of wonderful sweet gooey stuff. And another second later we all did.

Here's where our memories differ in this little episode.

I DISTINCTLY REMEMBER with my COMPLETELY PERFECT and ALWAYS RELIABLE memory, that Terese took her wrapper, wadded it up, and in response to my suggestion of placing our candy wrappers neatly and tidily in a garbage receptacle, said: NO. LET's THROW THEM INSTEAD. After which she took aim and hit Greg directly on the back of his head.

She denies saying this.

Pffft. I was there. I know. AND I saw who threw the first white wax paper missile, which meant all-out war.

Our SUV must have looked like a rolling snow globe heading down the highway. I must say, my shot which sailed perfectly through the opening of the steering wheel after bouncing off John was quite impressive. Terese and I had the advantage early on in the battle since we were in the back seat and therefore had a better line of sight and more room for arm maneuvering.

Greg and John had no other options than simply to lob their wrappers over their heads in our general direction.

Weak.

So I had purchased a BIG bag of taffy, which meant the battle was ongoing for much of our two hour drive. When we stopped for gas, we all switched seats, putting Terese and I in the front and the guys in the back, which put them in the wrapper-throwing-advantage seats. They took full use of this.

Between dodging incoming taffy wrappers, I wondered aloud how this particular battle had begun, (I must admit that this was just one in a string of several) and reiterated my understanding of the time line of events, to which Terese vehemently disagreed.

"I didn't say that!" She indignantly claimed just as we were passing a giant JESUS SAVES SINNERS! billboard. I pointed an accusing finger at her and another at the billboard.

See that?! And you still want to stick to your story, Miss Liar-Liar-Pants-On-Fire?

"Hey! Ain't no pants on fire over here!" she sneered.

Hah! Take this! I clicked her seat heater button on HIGH and threatened to leave it there until she confessed.

Terese is so lucky that I could never make a living as a torturer. I relented after the first scream and squirm.

Ahhh. Beautiful scenery. Great friends. Throwing things. Torture.

Good times.