When The Guns Are Running Hot

(I am about eight, and am getting targeted by the class bully. I receive two squirt guns with holsters for my birthday. One day, I wear them to the playground to play cowboy, using only one of the guns and leaving the other one holstered. The bully approaches me there, and I draw the second gun.)

Bully: “Aww, look at the widdle baby with his widdle baby gun. You gonna shoot me with it? Go on, then, baby. Shoot me!”

(He leaned forward invitingly. I squirted him full in the face. He reeled back and SCREAMED, throwing his arm over his face and crashing into a tree before running off. And that’s how he learned not to mess with a runt with a squirt gun and easy access to Tabasco sauce.)