There is a pet shop down across the street from the apartment building, that has two dogs in their driveway who often decide to bark in the middle of the night.  It is most irritating.

Now, as you will remember from your childhood, the times you started crying and your father (or a mean mother) told you, “If you want to cry, I will give you something to cry about.”  Well, I decided if these animals wanted to bark, I will give them something to bark about.

So, I chose to purchase several slingshots to pester these damn dogs, but the problem I have living overseas is the slingshot is considered a weapon.  I find that baffling, because what harm can you possibly do with a sling shot?

So, I contacted a nefarious individual in the States who I often do business with, who shall remain nameless, to purchase, disassemble and ship me two slingshots in separated mailings to deceive the postal people.  In anticipation for the upcoming dog disruption I knew I would cause, I also ordered a bag of paintballs …. and marbles to use as a last resort.

Once I finally got Gary’s shipment, I hastily assembled the weapons of mass disruption and pulled out the paintballs.  When the sun sat enough to keep me from being easily recognized from my 9th floor balcony, I proceeded to fire paintballs down to the pet shop across the street.

Unfortunately, the paintballs do not have enough mass to travel all the way across the street to the pet shop, so, I had to use the marbles.

Once I had the angle of trajectory (AoT) figured out, I could send marbles directly into the driveway.  It was an amazing thing to see.  These little clear glass projectiles were probably traveling a million miles an hour and yet I could watch them as they passed under the street light to their intended target.  See below.

Of the 40-50 marbles I sent into their territory, only about 10% made it to the target; and the only reaction I got out of them is one would get up to see if it was something to eat, while the other rolled over and licked its butt.  And they seemed to swap on who was going to see if it was something to eat, and who was going to lick their butt.

But I guarantee you, if an old widow woman were to walk by dragging her grocery cart behind her, heading home to feed her hungry children with what little money she had, those damn dogs would have come alive with every intention of tearing her apart, as if she were an infamous dog hunter like one of those you see on the reality shows.

Well, since the paintballs were of no use for the damn dogs, I decided to use them to pepper the building with the white roof below with splats of colored paint.  While doing that, I wondered what the people inside thought about the popping noise on their roof.  No one stepped out the back to see what it was.  Perhaps best, because I would have shot them with paintballs.  … I was watching for them.

…  I love being ornery.