Tm # 291: Take Someone Out
[Tm #291 Take Someone Out]
Their target was lying sprawled out across the living room floor completely unaware of his impending doom. Henry and Peter were in the hallway on their stomachs, dragging themselves along on their elbows. Okay so Henry was crawling really but he was three, Peter figured it was allowed. Right now, Peter had Sasha’s hand mirror poked around the doorframe, target in sight.
“Okay, when I say go, we belly crawl toward him. I’ll pin him down, you can shoot him.”
“Back head?”
“Yup,” Peter confirmed. “I’ll go first.” He belly crawled around the corner into the living room and Tex lifted his head. Peter gave him a quick, whispered “stay” and his head flopped back down to the floor. “Alright, go,” he looked over his shoulder to find Henry had already crept out from their hiding spot and was less than a foot away from him.
“Go go go,” Henry repeated gleefully and far too loudly to be stealth.
Peter stifled a chuckle and they crossed the rest of the living room. Peter occasionally muttered a stay to Tex. Half the time Henry decided Peter was talking to him which really only resulted in the little boy pausing for a half a second before he continued on his forward crawl toward the target. Once Peter was alongside Tex, he put his arm around the dog’s neck like he had him in a chokehold. From the very bored look on the golden retriever’s face, it was obvious this game had been played before.
“Target acquired.”
Henry put his little cowboy gun to the back of Tex’s head and pulled the trigger. Peter whispered play dead and Tex flopped on the floor apparently lifeless.
“He dead?” Henry asked, a smile stretching from ear to ear.
“He’s dead,” Peter responded as he pushed himself up to his knees. Tex was watching Henry, waiting for the signal that dead time was over.
“Yay! Get cookies!” Henry yelled, hands going up in the air. Tex sprang to life, on his feet and barking at Henry’s dance.
“Cookies for Henry. No cookies for Tex,” Peter reminded him.
“Kay. Just one.” Which of course meant at least three. Three was currently Henry’s favorite number.
“No, Henry. No cookies for Tex,” Peter repeated as he started after them.
“Kay. Just one,” Henry said complacently. Tex was running circles around Henry, racing ahead to the kitchen then racing back. He was well aware that he got sugar cookies after he played dead. There was an order to be kept in this house.
“Henry n-“ Peter started and then gave up as he got the Tupperware dish of homemade sugar cookies from the cabinet. He opened it and set it down on the counter then hoisted Henry up onto the bar stool. Tex managed to crawl/pull himself up into the bar stool beside Henry and sat there looking very proud of himself.
Well he had died today.
And at least they weren’t chocolate chip.
Their target was lying sprawled out across the living room floor completely unaware of his impending doom. Henry and Peter were in the hallway on their stomachs, dragging themselves along on their elbows. Okay so Henry was crawling really but he was three, Peter figured it was allowed. Right now, Peter had Sasha’s hand mirror poked around the doorframe, target in sight.
“Okay, when I say go, we belly crawl toward him. I’ll pin him down, you can shoot him.”
“Back head?”
“Yup,” Peter confirmed. “I’ll go first.” He belly crawled around the corner into the living room and Tex lifted his head. Peter gave him a quick, whispered “stay” and his head flopped back down to the floor. “Alright, go,” he looked over his shoulder to find Henry had already crept out from their hiding spot and was less than a foot away from him.
“Go go go,” Henry repeated gleefully and far too loudly to be stealth.
Peter stifled a chuckle and they crossed the rest of the living room. Peter occasionally muttered a stay to Tex. Half the time Henry decided Peter was talking to him which really only resulted in the little boy pausing for a half a second before he continued on his forward crawl toward the target. Once Peter was alongside Tex, he put his arm around the dog’s neck like he had him in a chokehold. From the very bored look on the golden retriever’s face, it was obvious this game had been played before.
“Target acquired.”
Henry put his little cowboy gun to the back of Tex’s head and pulled the trigger. Peter whispered play dead and Tex flopped on the floor apparently lifeless.
“He dead?” Henry asked, a smile stretching from ear to ear.
“He’s dead,” Peter responded as he pushed himself up to his knees. Tex was watching Henry, waiting for the signal that dead time was over.
“Yay! Get cookies!” Henry yelled, hands going up in the air. Tex sprang to life, on his feet and barking at Henry’s dance.
“Cookies for Henry. No cookies for Tex,” Peter reminded him.
“Kay. Just one.” Which of course meant at least three. Three was currently Henry’s favorite number.
“No, Henry. No cookies for Tex,” Peter repeated as he started after them.
“Kay. Just one,” Henry said complacently. Tex was running circles around Henry, racing ahead to the kitchen then racing back. He was well aware that he got sugar cookies after he played dead. There was an order to be kept in this house.
“Henry n-“ Peter started and then gave up as he got the Tupperware dish of homemade sugar cookies from the cabinet. He opened it and set it down on the counter then hoisted Henry up onto the bar stool. Tex managed to crawl/pull himself up into the bar stool beside Henry and sat there looking very proud of himself.
Well he had died today.
And at least they weren’t chocolate chip.