Whack! Benny’s hat flew off; he saw stars and for a moment, had to take a knee. The cold reality of a wicked good snowball hit was melting down his neck. Regaining his senses he dove for the nearest snow bank and packed a response.
“Where were they?” Benny mumbled to himself.
A long time advocate for snow ball fights there’s nothing Benny liked more. A head shot was the brass ring but any hit would do. Any other time of year launching projectiles at someone’s head could get a person in serious trouble, but rules of safety and sovereignty are ignored once the snow flies.
The neighborhood was quiet besides the distant scraping of shovels on concrete. There was no laughing or gloating that usually accompanied such a hit.
“Cowards!” Benny screamed hoping to draw out the enemy, but there was no one.
Slowly he stood up, carefully checking over both shoulders. He made a break for home, less than a block to go. Whack! This time the snow ball hit him in the thigh. The cold of the day made it really sting. Benny stumbled out of his run and took refuge behind some garbage cans. Boom! The next one rattled the cans like a cracked bell showering him in frozen shrapnel. Benny spun and threw cover fire, aiming at nothing. The now icy ball hit the side of the neighbor’s garage with a dull wooden thud. He took off in dead run, another one whipped by his head, a miss. He slid to a halt desperately trying to find the attacker. As he turned the next one hit him chest high center, knocking the wind out of him a little. He bent over scrambling to scrape up enough snow for a defense. Another one beaned him right on top of his head. It felt like a stone. He fell back on his rear end just in time to duck out the next incoming round. Way past time to panic Benny gave up. Cold water and ice dripped off his face, his only focus was making it to the back door. Out of the corner of his eye he caught a glimpse of a black figure paralleling him behind fences and bushes vanishing and reappearing against the white back ground. Home was in sight now, the back porch never looked so inviting. A few more steps and then, he was there, the black figure rounding the corner in front of the house, throwing wildly as he ran towards Benny. Benny slid head first towards home, face planting in the snow just short of the stairs. He picked his head up, covered with snow, hat gone, hair disheveled he stared into the cold eyes of his attacker.
“Dad!” Benny sort of sang his displeasure.
“Safe!” His dad yelled, making the universal baseball sign with his arms. Benny could still hear him laughing as he brushed off the first unprovoked attack of winter.