Flying Monkeys and Water Balloons

It's April 4th here in lovely, white New England. I'm contemplating several things this morning as I watch the snow fall and I defy my IT department by downloading Spotify. I've ignored their warnings and abandoned Pandora as it doesn't give me the ability to play God and Master over my musical selections. I'm filled with contentment as the world goes white and Bowie fills the air in my work space. This morning I am thinking of that novel I've not started...that's the one that I am convinced will catapult me to the stop of the best seller lists, subsequently causing me to go into hiding as my acquaintances discover their uncanny and unflattering similarity to my characters. It makes me smile a bit. Who am I kidding? There is no novel, despite the oodles and oodles of inspired material I could use. For now, all are safe from the poison pen of truth. I will have to be contented to read their passive aggressive posts and ponder the fantasy...
Speaking of judgmental people, I'm also delighted with the notion that Trump's campaign of idiotic misogyny appears to be loosing steam. Faith in humanity maybe restored after all...dare I hope we move to a contested election when the GOP may elect a worthy candidate, new and untainted by the garbage pail race to the white house we've all been forced to audit? More fantasy? And lastly, flying monkeys. I'm thinking how much easier life would be if I had unquestionable command of my own army of flying monkeys...

And now for the daily prompts:

"Blog City ~ Every Blogger's Paradise"
DAY 758 April 4, 2016
Prompt: “It's the sides of the mountain that sustain life, not the top.” Robert M. Pirsig
Interpret this quote in any form or style you wish.

Sometimes I aspire to climb mountains. I want whatever spoils await me at the apex but I always abandon the climb in the end, getting lost instead in the rich mountainside villages that offer vivid colors of life in progress. It is often lonely at the top. I would rather surround myself with life in all its splendor.


"Blogging Circle of Friends "
DAY 1237: April 4, 2016
Prompt: Water Balloons. Take this prompt anywhere you want.

Torrential rains suddenly broke and yielded to July summer sunshine. Four sets of feet clambered across the porch and launched into the still wet yard, shedding socks and shoes in their wake. The leader John, his body tanned and lithe, was the first to reach hose on the far side of the house. Cranking the spigot, he began barking orders at his soldiers. Georgia, the oldest girl was dispatched to get the bucket. Riley was instructed to gather the bags of ammunition. Bella and Ryan were sent to edge of the yard to watch should any of the enemy venture out prematurely. They began working, efficiently filling, tying and stacking. They worked, a nearly silent contingent, building their reserves as the sun beat down on their bare backs. After fifteen minutes, their bucket was filled to the top. "Would it be enough?" Riley looked at John, the question burning in his round eyes. John looked back as his ragtag unit, their bodies were almost vibrating with the anticipation of battle.

"Go," he ordered Bella and Ryan. The two youngest set off running for the house, raising the alarm with loud, whooping voices.

Riley and Georgie moved into position, flanking John. They reached into the bucket, ready.

The decoys came racing back on pumping legs, trailed by a good number of the enemy, still clutching cocktails and wearing masks of concern.

John waiting, letting them draw closer, into range.

"FIRE!" He suddenly shouted, tossing the heavy bombs as far as he could into the approaching enemy. Georgie and Riley echoed the war cry, letting loose their own barrage of fire power.

The water balloons connected with the group of adults, exploding across the broad chests and surprised faces. Screams filled the yard. Bella and Ryan fell behind their lines and took up arms, pumping fists and shouting in between throws. The four of them soaked the advancing adults, reloading again and again until the balloons began to run low. Uncle Leo snatched little Bella, tossing her on his hip falling back. Too late, John realized he was going for the hose.

"Retreat!" He shouted to the remaining members of his squad. They scattered but where soon captured by the adults.

Uncle Leo commended John on his battle plan and bravery of his team before turning the hose on the captive regiment, all except Bella who had turned traitor. She clapped and squealed with delight as her older cousins were hosed off their feet.

The victors returned to their armchairs and red solo cups while the losing squad traversed the yard plucking the colorful remnants of burst water balloons from the grass. The sun quickly dried their working bodies. They had fought hard, they had fought well. The summer was long, they would fight again.