Stick

When I was a boy, out of sheer boredom and frustratingly copasetic childhoods, the neighborhood kids and I would invent brilliant ways to harm ourselves. Some favorites included climbing to the top of a tall gravel pit, walking to its edge and playing King of the Mountain. Another good one: holding races down a large hill on Pinedale Avenue; our vehicles being old red wagons or plastic childhood cars we'd severely outgrown; loosening the wheels or otherwise altering the integrity of our shabby vehicles to make it a bit more interesting.

My favorite of these activities was a game aptly entitled "Stick."



Stick was brilliant in its simplicity and fairness. And it never ended; it could be started up again at a moment's notice.

How to play:
Pick up an item, let's say a stick. Choose someone. Yell "stick" and then mightily throw that stick at said person. Fun ensues.

The game is not limited just to its namesake. Oh, no. Anything is legal—so long as you follow the one rule, which is, simply, to give the person about to be struck with the object fair warning. So, if you picked up a book, scream "book!" If it's a television set, "TV!" A whole baked ham, "ham!" (Side note: I once threw a ham at my sister and while I followed the regulations of Stick, she was not at all happy about it.)

Why is Stick fair, you ask? Because there's always a warning. And it's specific. While you may not have time to react to the dead mouse that's being thrown at you, at least you know what you're in for. Violators of the one rule would be subject to having the whole of the neighborhood ganging up on them, Van Buren Boys-style.

Consider all of the times in adulthood when you've been blindsided with something. Wouldn't life be nicer if it were more like Stick?
-If a bad driver bellowed "car accident!" immediately before hitting your vehicle?
-If your boss walked into the office shouting "Shitty mood!"?
-If the bathroom walls echoed "no TP!" before your ass hit the seat?

I think so.