Quantcast
4S Ranch Allied Gardens Alpine Baja Balboa Park Bankers Hill Barrio Logan Bay Ho Bay Park Black Mountain Ranch Blossom Valley Bonita Bonsall Borrego Springs Boulevard Campo Cardiff-by-the-Sea Carlsbad Carmel Mountain Carmel Valley Chollas View Chula Vista City College City Heights Clairemont College Area Coronado CSU San Marcos Cuyamaca College Del Cerro Del Mar Descanso Downtown San Diego Eastlake East Village El Cajon Emerald Hills Encanto Encinitas Escondido Fallbrook Fletcher Hills Golden Hill Grant Hill Grantville Grossmont College Guatay Harbor Island Hillcrest Imperial Beach Imperial Valley Jacumba Jamacha-Lomita Jamul Julian Kearny Mesa Kensington La Jolla Lakeside La Mesa Lemon Grove Leucadia Liberty Station Lincoln Acres Lincoln Park Linda Vista Little Italy Logan Heights Mesa College Midway District MiraCosta College Miramar Miramar College Mira Mesa Mission Beach Mission Hills Mission Valley Mountain View Mount Hope Mount Laguna National City Nestor Normal Heights North Park Oak Park Ocean Beach Oceanside Old Town Otay Mesa Pacific Beach Pala Palomar College Palomar Mountain Paradise Hills Pauma Valley Pine Valley Point Loma Point Loma Nazarene Potrero Poway Rainbow Ramona Rancho Bernardo Rancho Penasquitos Rancho San Diego Rancho Santa Fe Rolando San Carlos San Marcos San Onofre Santa Ysabel Santee San Ysidro Scripps Ranch SDSU Serra Mesa Shelltown Shelter Island Sherman Heights Skyline Solana Beach Sorrento Valley Southcrest South Park Southwestern College Spring Valley Stockton Talmadge Temecula Tierrasanta Tijuana UCSD University City University Heights USD Valencia Park Valley Center Vista Warner Springs

Mallow Madness

My heart’s pumping, adrenaline is flowing and I am smack dab in the middle of a full-fledged war. A huge bonfire rages, growing larger with each passing moment, and the ground has become littered with perfectly in tact ammunition. I'm being attacked from all sides, taking hits to the cranium, the face, and the back. There’s no escape from the full barrage of ammo that is pelting me, yet I feel no pain. The flying projectiles continue to pass through the flames and into the crowd. From my position, I can't tell the difference between an enemy and a friendly. All I can see is a swirling mass of people surrounding the blaze. It’s only a matter of time before I’m sucked into this battle, and it’s at this point that I realize that it's time for me to join.

My time has come. It's do or die. I look down and see it; it's the perfect sand-covered marshmallow that is needed to join the chaos. I reach down, pick it up and hurl it with full force right into the base of some unsuspecting dudes’ skull. Bam! He's been hit. Bam! I've been hit. Must re-load. It's on. The great Ocean Beach marshmallow fight of 2012 has begun.

"U.S.A, U.S.A," chants drown out the crashing of the waves. “U.S.A., U.S.A.” Old-Glory is raised high and waves proudly in the ocean breeze. The patriotic chants that erupt so suddenly end as abruptly as they began. It's an all out battle. It's me versus the world, and there's no way anyone is escaping before being pelted with a giant, soggy, sandy piece of flying gelatin. Nobody is safe. And I mean nobody. That's right—even the little children who have come to view the fireworks are not safe from the wrath of the mallow.

The sand has now become a blanket of white. I reach down and pick up the largest marshmallow I've ever seen and take aim. I scan the crowd in search of my perfect victim. “Mr. Tough Guy” in the backwards, blue Dodger hat? Nah. I’ve already pegged him a few times. How 'bout the guy with his arms crossed, acting like he's too cool to join? Nah. Already hit him also. Bingo! I've spotted them—three attractive girls posing for photos and laughing. I take aim, cock my arm back, and unleash a Major League fastball directly at the forehead of one of the unsuspecting girls. Direct hit.

The shelling continues. I'm taking hits from all directions and there's no way of escaping it. I hurl marshmallows with so much force and velocity that my arm feels like it's going to disconnect from my socket. Re-living old glory days on the high-school pitching mound may not be the wisest decision, but wisdom has no place in this fiery battle.

"U.S.A., U.S.A." again rises from the crowd. At this point, the ground is covered in thousands of mallows and the hundreds' of participants show no sign of letting up. Boxes and furniture add more fuel to the fire, as the flames stretch higher and higher toward the smoke-filled sky.

I've got to admit—my ‘hit/got hit ratio’ has really sucked so far. I must've pegged at least eighty-five people, but have easily taken on three times that many. It's now time to fall back. Not quit, but step back along the peripheries of the battle. No longer will I engage in face to face combat. I’ll fall back and act as a sniper in the crowd.

I stock up on ammo and make sure my arm-cannon is prepared for more action. I take the high ground, up on a small dirt mound that separates the sand from the grass and begin my search for more victims. From this vantage point, I take aim at specific targets; mostly little kids and amateur photographers.

The photographers become my main target (the young children are later). The joy I get when I strike some guy, knock him off tilt, and keep him from accomplishing his Scorcesse style masterpiece is something that makes me feel like a villain. Sure, he's just standing there minding his own business, but this is war! Collateral damage.

I retreat, slowly stepping further from the bowels of the battle. I’m now out of the crossfire, unharmed, free from injury (besides a throbbing right arm) but still close enough to peg people fleeing the scene. Head-shots are the target. Usually, that seems to get their attention. Believe it or not, the little kids barely out of strollers are some of the most difficult targets. They move in zig-zag formations, flail their arms, and fall to the ground a lot. Come to think of it, they're a lot like the drunkards escaping from the center of the fight.

As the crowd thins, I make a full retreat. I must retire my cannon for the year (which now feels more like a noodle at this point), unleash the rest of my ammo and fall back into the night and celebrate Independence Day. After all, this is America!

Here's something you might be interested in.
Submit a free classified
or view all

Previous article

Ma’s House Chinese Halal: genuine Uyghur food

“Muslim people love lamb, and always with cumin.”
Next Article

Mainly Mozart does drive-up at Del Mar Fairgrounds

Fiddle music, Billy Joel, and Purcell trumpet sonata

My heart’s pumping, adrenaline is flowing and I am smack dab in the middle of a full-fledged war. A huge bonfire rages, growing larger with each passing moment, and the ground has become littered with perfectly in tact ammunition. I'm being attacked from all sides, taking hits to the cranium, the face, and the back. There’s no escape from the full barrage of ammo that is pelting me, yet I feel no pain. The flying projectiles continue to pass through the flames and into the crowd. From my position, I can't tell the difference between an enemy and a friendly. All I can see is a swirling mass of people surrounding the blaze. It’s only a matter of time before I’m sucked into this battle, and it’s at this point that I realize that it's time for me to join.

My time has come. It's do or die. I look down and see it; it's the perfect sand-covered marshmallow that is needed to join the chaos. I reach down, pick it up and hurl it with full force right into the base of some unsuspecting dudes’ skull. Bam! He's been hit. Bam! I've been hit. Must re-load. It's on. The great Ocean Beach marshmallow fight of 2012 has begun.

"U.S.A, U.S.A," chants drown out the crashing of the waves. “U.S.A., U.S.A.” Old-Glory is raised high and waves proudly in the ocean breeze. The patriotic chants that erupt so suddenly end as abruptly as they began. It's an all out battle. It's me versus the world, and there's no way anyone is escaping before being pelted with a giant, soggy, sandy piece of flying gelatin. Nobody is safe. And I mean nobody. That's right—even the little children who have come to view the fireworks are not safe from the wrath of the mallow.

The sand has now become a blanket of white. I reach down and pick up the largest marshmallow I've ever seen and take aim. I scan the crowd in search of my perfect victim. “Mr. Tough Guy” in the backwards, blue Dodger hat? Nah. I’ve already pegged him a few times. How 'bout the guy with his arms crossed, acting like he's too cool to join? Nah. Already hit him also. Bingo! I've spotted them—three attractive girls posing for photos and laughing. I take aim, cock my arm back, and unleash a Major League fastball directly at the forehead of one of the unsuspecting girls. Direct hit.

The shelling continues. I'm taking hits from all directions and there's no way of escaping it. I hurl marshmallows with so much force and velocity that my arm feels like it's going to disconnect from my socket. Re-living old glory days on the high-school pitching mound may not be the wisest decision, but wisdom has no place in this fiery battle.

"U.S.A., U.S.A." again rises from the crowd. At this point, the ground is covered in thousands of mallows and the hundreds' of participants show no sign of letting up. Boxes and furniture add more fuel to the fire, as the flames stretch higher and higher toward the smoke-filled sky.

I've got to admit—my ‘hit/got hit ratio’ has really sucked so far. I must've pegged at least eighty-five people, but have easily taken on three times that many. It's now time to fall back. Not quit, but step back along the peripheries of the battle. No longer will I engage in face to face combat. I’ll fall back and act as a sniper in the crowd.

I stock up on ammo and make sure my arm-cannon is prepared for more action. I take the high ground, up on a small dirt mound that separates the sand from the grass and begin my search for more victims. From this vantage point, I take aim at specific targets; mostly little kids and amateur photographers.

The photographers become my main target (the young children are later). The joy I get when I strike some guy, knock him off tilt, and keep him from accomplishing his Scorcesse style masterpiece is something that makes me feel like a villain. Sure, he's just standing there minding his own business, but this is war! Collateral damage.

I retreat, slowly stepping further from the bowels of the battle. I’m now out of the crossfire, unharmed, free from injury (besides a throbbing right arm) but still close enough to peg people fleeing the scene. Head-shots are the target. Usually, that seems to get their attention. Believe it or not, the little kids barely out of strollers are some of the most difficult targets. They move in zig-zag formations, flail their arms, and fall to the ground a lot. Come to think of it, they're a lot like the drunkards escaping from the center of the fight.

As the crowd thins, I make a full retreat. I must retire my cannon for the year (which now feels more like a noodle at this point), unleash the rest of my ammo and fall back into the night and celebrate Independence Day. After all, this is America!

Sponsored
Here's something you might be interested in.
Submit a free classified
or view all
Previous article

Padres continue defiance of baseball’s unwritten rules, sparking concerns among MLB brass

Unwrite This!
Next Article

Chalk talk for Chief David Nisleit

Protestors call for the resignation of Nisleit and the officers involved in the July 9 shooting of Richard Price
Comments
1

I was in the same psychic state when I wrote sometimes I crack myself up.

July 17, 2012

Sign in to comment

Sign in

Art Reviews — W.S. Di Piero's eye on exhibits Ask a Hipster — Advice you didn't know you needed Best Buys — San Diego shopping Big Screen — Movie commentary Blurt — Music's inside track Booze News — San Diego spirits City Lights — News and politics Classical Music — Immortal beauty Classifieds — Free and easy Cover Stories — Front-page features Excerpts — Literary and spiritual excerpts Famous Former Neighbors — Next-door celebs Feast! — Food & drink reviews Feature Stories — Local news & stories From the Archives — Spotlight on the past Golden Dreams — Talk of the town Here's the Deal — Chad Deal's watering holes Just Announced — The scoop on shows Letters — Our inbox [email protected] — Local movie buffs share favorites Movie Reviews — Our critics' picks and pans Musician Interviews — Up close with local artists Neighborhood News from Stringers — Hyperlocal news News Ticker — News & politics Obermeyer — San Diego politics illustrated Of Note — Concert picks Out & About — What's Happening Overheard in San Diego — Eavesdropping illustrated Poetry — The old and the new Pour Over — Grab a cup Reader Travel — Travel section built by travelers Reading — The hunt for intellectuals Roam-O-Rama — SoCal's best hiking/biking trails San Diego Beer — Inside San Diego suds SD on the QT — Almost factual news Set 'em Up Joe — Bartenders' drink recipes Sheep and Goats — Places of worship Special Issues — The best of Sports — Athletics without gush Street Style — San Diego streets have style Suit Up — Fashion tips for dudes Theater Reviews — Local productions Theater antireviews — Narrow your search Tin Fork — Silver spoon alternative Under the Radar — Matt Potter's undercover work Unforgettable — Long-ago San Diego Unreal Estate — San Diego's priciest pads Waterfront — All things ocean Your Week — Daily event picks
4S Ranch Allied Gardens Alpine Baja Balboa Park Bankers Hill Barrio Logan Bay Ho Bay Park Black Mountain Ranch Blossom Valley Bonita Bonsall Borrego Springs Boulevard Campo Cardiff-by-the-Sea Carlsbad Carmel Mountain Carmel Valley Chollas View Chula Vista City College City Heights Clairemont College Area Coronado CSU San Marcos Cuyamaca College Del Cerro Del Mar Descanso Downtown San Diego Eastlake East Village El Cajon Emerald Hills Encanto Encinitas Escondido Fallbrook Fletcher Hills Golden Hill Grant Hill Grantville Grossmont College Guatay Harbor Island Hillcrest Imperial Beach Imperial Valley Jacumba Jamacha-Lomita Jamul Julian Kearny Mesa Kensington La Jolla Lakeside La Mesa Lemon Grove Leucadia Liberty Station Lincoln Acres Lincoln Park Linda Vista Little Italy Logan Heights Mesa College Midway District MiraCosta College Miramar Miramar College Mira Mesa Mission Beach Mission Hills Mission Valley Mountain View Mount Hope Mount Laguna National City Nestor Normal Heights North Park Oak Park Ocean Beach Oceanside Old Town Otay Mesa Pacific Beach Pala Palomar College Palomar Mountain Paradise Hills Pauma Valley Pine Valley Point Loma Point Loma Nazarene Potrero Poway Rainbow Ramona Rancho Bernardo Rancho Penasquitos Rancho San Diego Rancho Santa Fe Rolando San Carlos San Marcos San Onofre Santa Ysabel Santee San Ysidro Scripps Ranch SDSU Serra Mesa Shelltown Shelter Island Sherman Heights Skyline Solana Beach Sorrento Valley Southcrest South Park Southwestern College Spring Valley Stockton Talmadge Temecula Tierrasanta Tijuana UCSD University City University Heights USD Valencia Park Valley Center Vista Warner Springs
Close