A rush of euphoria and satisfaction came over me today as I let go of the volley ball. I had done a full crow hop and had completely put everything I had into the throw, a perfect hurl. The ball left my hand like a rocket out of a cannon and flew across the gym at about three and half feet above the ground, a perfectly flat line of flight, backspin giving it a slight upwards tailing action. It was headed straight for a student who had been particularly lazy and whiny today. As the ball drilled into their hip and the look of instant defeat flushed their face I almost smiled...almost. I would have enjoyed the bliss that is destroying a student with a dodgeball longer, but there was still vermin to exterminate on the court.
One after another, students fell to the relentless onslaught of 65MPH plus dodgeballs being hurled at them from every imaginable angle and approach, without regard for their age discrepancy. I was a ninja. I was an assassin. When it comes to dodgeball, the heart of a venom filled poison half snake half lion beats inside of me (a snion?). Plainly put, I'm a stone cold killer on the dodgeball court.
BEWARE ALL WHO DEFY ME! You will have the "Wilson" sports company volley ball logo implanted on your puny, soft, teenage exoskeleton, and you probably deserve it.
Don't walk children...run...hide...I'm coming for you with a white missile with your name on it.