Growing up, every neighborhood had that one kid who got up super early on snow days to construct an igloo fortress filled with an arsenal of snowballs. In my neighborhood, it just so happened to be me. Yes, a teenage girl with icicles on her lashes lying in wait for unsuspecting neighbor kids to walk past, then WWIII would commence. To my defense, I would always lob a friendly warning shot. Good times indeed! Until the kid who couldn't take a zinger to the face would run home crying... yeah, you know the kid who talked big and wore his dad's ski goggles, but had nothing to back it up.
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