Paintball!

How many people do you know that goes paintballing and comes back with a welt on their neck? Well if you are reading this I am one of those people.
Paintball is a fast paced, fun, and heart beating game that you wish would last longer and longer. When ever I paintball I bring one pair of shorts and sweats for the lasting experience. On the field it’s a whole other story. I get on and I give no mercy to any one.

One when I was paintballing we went to the Alamo field and it was teenagers V.S. adults. There were 10 of us and about 30 of them. Before the game even started a picture guy came over to my window and I freaked and bang! Bang! bang! I shot him three times, then he went off the field and then the terror started. After the whistle blew paintballs came in and none came out till the swarm of humans looking for blood went to the sides and started picking off two of us at a time. Finally I was the last person shooting behind, lift, right and forward. After the second whistle blew to let me know I could come out of the base. Then I was surrounded getting fired at by my parents and other people who knew me. Just by looking at them I could tell they weren’t going to let me get out of there alive. Finally I was shot in the ankle and people started storming the base and I got shot 10 more times. Nothing popped and I was still in, then five more paintballs got me and I was tasting paint and feeling the inflame skin break open and I was out like a deer in the woods.

Another one of my story’s were in the speed ball field and again it was teenagers V.S adults bit there were only three of them and 10 of us. It was capturing the flag and gets it to the other side. My father was the first to get out slipping to the flag. Then my friend’s father got the flag and I shot him right next to my bunker. The last and final guy are close friend got it and ran as fast as he could and got to the other side. I a little ashamed about this, and lit him up not caring, thinking, and not ashamed of that. Then he curses under his breath and lit me up getting me a cross me arms and chest. My father who heard of this saw me and pointed the gun at me and pulled the trigger in frustration that I would do that. But it didn’t work and I went out of the field with two welts on my chest.