The KMW Member Diaries: Back in the Saddle, Chapter 13
Finally getting back into level 4 classes, I was right proper chuffed to see the instructor hauling out a pile of handguns…
[My own personal gypsy-funk-hip-hop-band (Questlove on drums, Zach Condon on trumpet, Eugene Hutz on howls and guitar, Tom Waits on trash cans and broken violin, DJ Premier on turntables) started in on a pre-dusk, pre-draw staredown accompaniment to a Middle East-inspired version of a spaghetti western]
But we were in Room One and there was really no room so they had to go. And I soon remembered how hard even those rubber guns are and I found myself intermittently staring at the pads of my hand trying to figure out if that was swelling. Or were the mounds where fingers met palm just getting fat? How do you diet for hand weight-loss?
And the blue guns, I have to admit, were a bit shocking. The little boy in me, who still can’t resist making “pcchww!” sounds when I’m pretending to pull the trigger as I’m being disarmed, was a little disappointed by these OBVIOUS fake guns. And while I was nigh on giddy with this class, overjoyed to be learning techniques I’d never tried (so at least if I started shoddy, I now had an excuse) and just relishing the out-and-out joy of learning, the strange blue, smurf-like sheen of these weapons pointed at my partner as I dove through third-party defense takeaways sent me on a strange blue-hued train of thought.
So if many really smart ingenious fellows—say, Einstein cause of the hair and the ease of use—were quite positive time could and probably does exist in multiple manners and streams that we do not perceive, with every snatch-away of this not-deadly weapon, was there any alternate me missing the snatch of a non-deadly weapon? Was there another alternate me snatching successfully at a now-deadly weapon in a time or dimension where blue guns were not ridiculous at all but the battle-earned badge of a fierce and deadly gun-toting SOB known for brutality to shame the devil?
And, shudder of shudders, was there yet another time stream of similar timbre where I wasn’t successfully making the snatch and my partner was getting shot? I tried to astrally project to see if everything was okay elsewhere, but it just slowed my reaction time in this time and place and got me all caught up in my footwork and made me twice as paranoid, so I gave over this consideration altogether. And then swore never to discuss this with anyone for fear of strange looks unabating in every possible time stream. So, of course, I had to blog it out.
Brendan McNamara is a member at KMW Training Centers™.