They Call Me "Ruthless"

There's something about river rafting that brought out the repressive spirit in me. In spite of its family atmosphere and endless Sacramento sunshine this day won't stop my urge of spitting stream water to hapless fellow rafters who are otherwise powerless to defend themselves. So, the fellow rafters who I 'partly' contributed with almost sinking the boat to the mild but cold water were the ones who sent out the invitation. Pretty slick way to go and make an impression. And I say partly because I'm not the only person who doused them bad; sure I got my mossy bath from the rest of our group who are more 'stream machine' equipped than us (despite the fact that the kids even coordinated an aggressive taking of a pail from an opponent raft). They allegedly say I'm capable of playing innocent and attacking my inviter once they have their backs turned. Once we went ashore, our victims in a last ditch attempt got help from two rafts who fired H20 at us once more. Surely, I can't measure up to that nickname but wouldn't it fun to live with it for a day or two. It would be fun-ner if my sidekid was with me. Perhaps next year, if my deed was all lost from my friends' short term memories.