Paint Wars

Squishy, oozy, gooey, and warm. I plunged my hand into the bucket of grape paint. It coated my hand and made me brave. A flash of violent thoughts ran through my mind. My hand moved without conscious thought and suddenly I saw my paint magically transfer onto Hilary. She glared. I just started a war and I wasn't really sure if I wanted to continue it. The boys just sat there, hands halfway in between them and the canvas, not entirely sure if what I had done actually happened.
Hilary rose slowly. I knew her stance to be one of revenge and I knew that I could not outrun her. I would probably end up on my face in 5 steps anyway. I held my stance and and plunged my hand into my paint can. She lunged. Paint went flying. The grass was no longer green, but purple, red, blue, yellow, and about every other shade in between. The canvas was forgotten. We were the canvas now. I didn't really know what was going on. I just knew that if I didn't stop the paint flying from my fingers, I would be attacked. Too bad I sucked at aiming and was even worse at running away.
Scrubbing my car, peeling off most of my skin, losing half my hair, and spending an absurdly long time in the shower and I still loved every second of it. It was the funnest date I have ever had.