True Confessions of a Water Gun Owner

A few years back, I learned of a curious North African tradition regarding the lunar New Year. The extent to which the tradition actually takes place is somewhat irrelevant, as it’s mostly a MacGuffin for the true story that follows. On New Year’s Day, in North Africa, schoolchildren sit in their apartments – not ground floor apartments, mind you – and drizzle water on passersby. One day around the lunar New Year, as I was navigating town by foot, I experienced this phenomenon several times and came to believe that the timing wasn’t a coincidence. It’s also possible that people were just out to get me. Remember: Being paranoid doesn’t mean people aren’t out to get you.

I wanted to fit in culturally and join the fun, so I asked for a Super Soaker® for Christmas. My sister obliged. I think she takes it upon herself to find these sorts of items for me, sort of like the time when she purchased my dad an AirZooka in order to torment those dogs next door that bark all the time, yet do it in such a way that he couldn’t get in trouble for it. No, wait. The AirZooka was my idea. Come to think of it, my poor, unsuspecting cat took the brunt of that gift. Maybe that wasn’t such a good idea.

Fast-forward to roughly a year ago. A certain teenaged young man frequented my apartment, generally to have meaningful conversations with my roommate, but also to plunder the foodstuffs in the kitchen. I used him as target practice for my camelback-equipped, arm-pumped Super Soaker®.

Apparently my friend, who just graduated from high school this past weekend, desired to join the fun as well, so when he went to the United States for the summer prior to his senior year in North Africa, he also acquired a suitable water pistol. And that’s what led to the following conversation, which took place just yesterday:

HIM: I bought a water gun last summer in order to be prepared in case you came after me with your Super Soaker® again. [Editor’s Note: the registered trademark sign was inferred from the inflection in his voice.]
ME: You bought a water gun?
HIM: Yeah, but it’s not as nice as yours. I waited all year to use it.
ME: Oh? [Editor’s Note: Possibly not my exact words, but also fairly likely.]
HIM: Yeah, but I had to get rid of it. There’s no way I can haul that thing back to the United States.
ME: So what you’re saying is, now you don’t have a water gun anymore.
HIM: [Stunned silence, realizing he’s just admitted to rendering himself defenseless against the water gun I still own.]