Last night the smoke cleared briefly on the battlefield that is our typical dinner time. As the carnage parted in front of me I suddenly became aware of a figure in the distance. Far across the table, over the broken bodies of half eaten chicken thighs, through the valley of mixed vegetables, I saw the youngest of my female warriors rise up and stand precariously in her chair. She triumphantly threw back her head and smiled wildly, grease and sauce smeared across her face in savage patterns. She held aloft a weapon, a sword was clasped tightly in her hand. She grinned and twirling it in circles like a tipsy samurai.
We made eye contact and she leaned toward me, teetering on the edge of the chair, and yelled, “Raise your hand if you think you know why I’m holding a knife right now!”
Before we could learn the answer to her riddle she was dove upon from three directions and expertly disarmed.
I still wonder though, what she had planned.