The Game.

I enjoyed my years in high school. I had good friends and we enjoyed good fun. Even so, ninety-nine percent of the time I would not want to go back, especially in the atmosphere that is society today. It's tough being a teen. I know. I have a teenager. A teenage girl, to boot. Ohhhh, the drama. I'll just leave that one sitting right there. Like I said, I did love high school - just not enough to make me want to return - until yesterday.

Ren came home in a very chipper mood and at one point while sharing the events of her school day, let it slip that several of her buddies have been part of a group playing a new game (not all her friends, mind you. Some people are just too cool for such pursuits). It's called Blow Dart, and was developed by one of her friends who is recently returned from a mission trip to Africa. The gist of the game is as follows...

1.) Someone calls your name.

2.) You turn to see who it is.

3.) The caller then pretends to shoot you with a poisonous dart.

If you are part of the group playing the game you must drop where you are and lay still. You have, afterall, been felled by a poison which has affected your central nervous system.

4.) You are allowed to get up only when someone comes along and pulls the pretend dart from your body - or when a teacher begins to question why it is you are laying in the middle of the hall.

Luckily, players are given a means to avoid the darts. To do this, one must, upon hearing their name called, place two fingers on their neck before facing the caller. This seems to create some sort of invisible force field and the callee remains protected.

Now, you're probably thinking that this seems like such juvenile behavior. And you'd be right. It is nothing short of juvenile behavior. After all, they are juveniles. But even as forty-somethings John and I had to laugh. The image of a boy reciting words in Spanish class, suddenly dropping over on his desk and then immediately picking up where he had left off when the girl behind him took pity and removed his dart, was priceless! So, too, was the teacher who was curious as to why so many kids were checking their pulse.

Yep. It's when I hear stories like this I wish I could go back and revisit school for a day or two - or just long enough to be shot with a dart.

P.S. Of course, all good things must come to an end, including The Game...especially now that the AP knows about it.