7. Bamboo
Gordon was beside himself when it finally came in the mail. He ripped open the box, gasping at the hand-crafted beauty of his newest possession: The Georgely's Deluxe Bamboo Spitball Shooter. Oh, the fun he'd been planning ever since he'd found that it existed and subsequently ordered it.
He quickly unwrapped the shooter, set it up, and then created twenty spitballs. He stuffed his supplies in his pockets and headed out to find some unsuspecting victims.
As he stepped out of his room, he heard the far-off sound of the piano and knew the first attack was going to be too easy. Pretending he was a Marine, he snuck into the lounge on his belly, eying his prey obliviously playing at the piano. Once the target was in range, he pulled a spitball from his pocket and loaded his shooter. Then, with a carefully aimed shot, he blew into the bamboo tube.
The wadded paper hit Virgil directly in the back of the head.
Virgil stopped playing immediately, lifting a hand to his head and turning to figure out what had happened to him. But Gordon was already gone, holding in his laughter until he was safely in his room.
The attacks continued throughout the week: Jeff while he was reading the paper, Scott while he was doing diagnostics on One, Tin-Tin while sunbathing at the poolside, Alan while he was asleep, and Brains while he was having an awkward vidcall with an old colleague. No one was able to get a good look at their attacker, but they all guessed that it was the prankster of the house. But soon enough, Gordon's lucky streak ended and he finally made a fatal mistake.
Gordon stalked the hallway leading to the lounge, waiting to wreak his havoc on the next unfortunate soul to pass by. He crouched in the hall, having achieved a perfect view of the doorway to the lounge, and smiled broadly when he heard footsteps approaching.
He readied his weapon, waiting patiently as the person moved closer. The moment they stepped into the hall, he didn't hesitate—he just took the shot.
"Oh!" the poor victim said in her light, refined voice.
Gordon looked in horror as Penny pulled the offending object out of her perfectly arranged hair.
Jeff rushed into the hallway, saying,
"What happened?"
Gordon stood slowly, hiding his shooter behind his back and smiling sheepishly.
"Hi, Dad."
"Son," Jeff replied, giving Gordon his signature glare. Gordon knew the gig was up.
"Sorry, Penny," he said.
"No harm done," she said, handing Jeff the spitball she'd extracted from her hair as though she was passing him a dainty cracker.
Jeff put his hand out to Gordon, who reluctantly handed over his beloved shooter.
No one saw it ever again after that.