"The Violence Inherent in the System"

An orange paintball streaks out of the grey rain and strikes me hard in the shoulder. The impact is not unlike being hit in the ass with a leather belt, and I raise my arms so the shooter can see that I am hit.
"SHIT"
It is a letdown.

I am soaking wet and cant see very well out of my muddy goggles. My breath is a white cloud in front of my face and my leather boots squish a sigh.

I rub my shoulder.

The next thing I say would be wrong in every other context, and I say it the like I was telling him to clean his room.

"Go shoot your brother" I command my oldest son, and he runs off into the woods in a crouched position, gun in front. I dont have to see his face to know that he is smiling.