Holi Hell it’s Paintmaggedon
It was a warm spring day on March 4th, so we spent the day drinking and preparing for the following afternoons festivities. We might have prepared a little to diligently as we all ended up crawling out of bed around 11 am severely hung over.
Without regard to our own suffering we concluded that the show must go on. So we had a very large smoked breakfast with a dessert composed of edible narcotic substances. Fueled up and now chemically unable to exercise common sense we descended upon the neighbourhood children with a vengeful hail of radiant painty water. A few of the bolder children ran forward to meet us, but being children they are not overly tactically savvy. As they passed through the gates our bucket crews (positioned stealthily beside the gate) soaked the living shit out of this vanguard. Victory was ours.
A few among us proved that they could not hit the broadside of a barn, or a small terrified child, and were summarily executed. They would have been executed if our firing squad (Arpan) did not miraculously miss two close range shots on prone and immobile man sized targets. His failure could not be tolerated so I was forced to pour a bucket over his head. Not just any bucket mind you, the bucket we had all been using to wash paint from our hands.
The syrupy concoction marked him as a failure for a great many days.
As night fell we slipped into a drug induced coma on the rug on my floor using the couch cushions as pillows. Both are now covered in human shaped paint stains.