When we were younger (Gen X) everything was a battle anyway, so getting battle-ready was priming political animals and warriors.  

     Competition was fierce.  For good jobs, better vehicles and living conditions, and mates. 

     One day after we'd splattered the just slightly older and more qualified candidates for command in the ranks of various organizations with black walnut tire juice stuck in the piles of tires needing to be sorted, a really ranking woman sat us down for a "time out".  "Y'all are in deep shit.  And you can stay there for all I care." 

     "What'd we do?" 

     "Dry cleaning bills for one thing."  She pulled a little list from a shirt pocket.  "And, and, giving away strategy secrets."  We looked at each other, shocked.  Had a teenage girl pow wow and elected one of ourselves to ask, "How did we do that?" 

     "How could you not know since all the teams have covered strategy?"  The person who'd asked the question turned and mouthed Did we?  

     "And who told the grapevine community and neighborhood her husband is a Knight?" 

Across town...

     "A war criminal?" 

     "No way."

     "Way."

     "What is that pile of shit in the front yard?" 

     Whispering hoarse-ly.  What did you peoples do last night?  Not much.  A band.  And, uh, a scavenger hunt.  And, uh, is he talking about my car?  Because that's not really my car.  Oh no? Hidey boy.  Who's is it?