Sling Shot

Some of my fellow Peace Corps volunteers and I recently got together for a 'Men's weekend.' Although those of us who are married enjoy the constant companionship of our wives, it is really good sometimes to just have some 'guy time.' We didn't get very rowdy, but hung out in a big hostel bedroom, talking about man stuff. That didn't take too long, and after about an hour of wondering what to say, we all decided to go out and get food, and follow that up with some good ol' men's weekend drinking. Some of us are more overzealous drinkers than others, and by some of us, I mean someone that wasn't me. So, we all got back to the pension sometime that morning and rose to a gloriously hot Philippine morning the next day when I decided that I needed something. I couldn't decide quite what that something was until I saw someone looping a rubber band around toothpaste and a toothbrush and heard the familiar snap of rubber's recoil. I threw on pants and a shirt and headed downtown to get a slingshot, to fill that void that had been throbbing now for months, the need which I had been unable to identify. My companions and I asked at several little establishments with wooded wares. We finally came upon the store I'd been in search of. Tens if not hundreds of little coconut-lumber slingshots hung from a wire, flimsy rubber bands holding the main rubber cords taught, ready for action. For 20 pesos, I got one with red rubber bands. Although mens weekend was fun, my excitement at my purchase drowns the rest of the experience.

This week, I started by replacing flimsy rubber cords with intertube cords for maximum accuracy and effect. The first shot I landed was on one of the hundreds of feral cats that haunt our residence. It was a direct hit, and I have rarely been as successful since. I carefully select stones that I imagine sailing through the air unimpeded by sharp corners or flaws that would reduce aerodynamics. My first assumption was that the slingshot would be used only for feral cats and rats, but rats are so darn fast and nocturnal, that I have had to replace that void with chickens as the need arises. I continue trying to perfect my weapon, increasing tension, finding good rocks, shaving the 'V' in the middle of the slingshot down, so as to allow for larger ammunition. I recognize my preoccupation with bigger, faster, and more efficient weaponry as symbolic of one of the overarching reasons for international nuclear proliferation. Maybe Iran or North Korea just wants bigger, better projectiles, just like me. It's a scary thought.

As a personal note to family and friends at home, yes, I am still working hard and doing what I'm supposed to be doing here. At the same time though, I am getting to be a mean sling-shotter.