Roaring Laughter – the Daily Post prompt

It all happened, and it comes as no surprise, when I was with my cousins at my grandma’s house and we were doing what we do best: going completely crazy. It was late and we were playing badminton, as we often enjoy doing when they are down here during the summer.

It started out like you would expect it to: Kayli and I were on one side of the net, with Andi and Alyssa on the opposite. This is how we always play badminton. We always stand in the same exact spots, so much so that one year at the end of the summer there were four circular patches of dead grass around the badminton net.

This particular year was no different than usual when we went out to play. I had eaten a particularly large amount of Tootsie Rolls that day, which we had swiped out from under children’s noses at the Fourth of July parade that morning (the art of candy gathering is one that we have perfected, if I do say so myself, and being teenagers does not stop us from utilizing our skills in the slightest. In fact, it encourages it), and so I suppose I may have had a little more spark than usual.

We started out the same way as we always do: with fairly organized badminton playing. We counted the hits and tried to get as many as possible. I think our highest was fourteen. We’d hit the dirt whenever a car drive by, and fall over dramatically whenever a gunshot went off (which got confusing because of all the fireworks). Just your typical everyday activities. Then the really bizarre stuff started happening.

(insert German accent)

Kayli began shpeakink in a Russian aksent! Now, I know zat zis says Jerman accent, but zat is bekause I do not know how to type in a Russian aksent. I do not know vy sche began shpeakink like zat, but I joined in, ant before you knew it vee vere zee Russian Gangshters! Now you kan imajine zat it is not easy to talk like a gangshter vile shpeakink in a Russian aksent. I am not even sure how long zat lashted, but vee kept zee name anyvay.

Zen Andi unt Alysha chose zeir own team name.

(insert Spanish accent)

Zee Swiping Spaniards!

Vee bahntered bahck and forth in our accentes, throwing insoolts from our respecteeve countries. Zee Swiping Spaniards inseested that zey had mooch more style than zee Russian Gangsters, and to that, Kayli had mooch to say.

(insert German/Russian accent)

Sche lait her raket on her right schoulder, helt her left hant in a rather girlisch vay to her left, unt popped her hip to zee right. “Vaaaat?” sche sait. Zat bekame a huje hit, unt ven I triet it dit not vork quite as vell as ven sche dit it, so sche hat to give me leschons.

“Iz all about zee attitude. Firsht, holt your left hant like zis, unt put your left foot here, unt lean on your right foot, unt zen POP zee hip like zis, unt togeser vee schay…vaaaat?”

Zough I koult not do zis zee firsht time (or zee lasht time), it put our opponents out of kommischion for a vile. Zee mighty Shviping Shpaniarts broke down laufing unt dit not shtop for a long time.

Zen majikally, after a little more badminton, schomehow zee Shviping Shpaniarts began shpeakink in a different aksent.

(insert British accent)

All of a sudden we had Brits on our ‘ands. But they were keeping well wi’ their former nationality and had to put a bit of a flair to it, and so became bloody Caribbean pirates. The Russians followed in their wake and started speaking in a Bri’ish accent as well! You ‘ave no idea how bloody ‘ard it is to switch to a Bri’ish accent after speaking Russian for a long time. Kayli found it particularly difficult, and so her main line, whenever the pirates hit the birdie and the Brits missed, was “Bloody pirates.” The Brits now were focused on perfection and played as if they were Bri’ish soldiers, with one ‘and behind their backs, while the Pirates tossed Bri’ish-accented comments and insults in our direction.

But there was unrest among the Bri’ish ranks.

One of the Pirates hit the birdie and it came soaring over to our side. Kayli leaped and swung at it…and missed. She fell to the ground wi’ cries of agony.

Immediately I took command. “You are a disgrace to the crown!” I said. “I hereby banish you from England forever! Unless you would like to gravel at my feet for your life.”

Kayli crawled over in front of me, sobbing hysterically. “Gravel!” I ordered.

“Grovel,” Andi called from across the badminton net. “It’s grovel.”

“GROVEL!!!” I screamed.

Kayli did nothing but cry. I shook my ‘ead in mockery and pointed. “Away wi’ you! You are banished to America!”

The Pirates reacted to this with collective ooooooooooohhhhhhhs as Kayli, bawling, crawled to pick up her badminton racket and made her way to the other side of the net ~ she had to the nerve to JOIN the Bloody Pirates, after all the insults they’d thrown at us! I must say I ‘eld up my end of the game prit’y well consit’ering I was alone. In fact, the Brits (now just the Brit) managed to beat the Bloody Pirates several times before the game was called to an end. All funned out, we ‘eaded back inside and returned to our original nationality

(insert American accent, since apparently there is one)

by making ourselves some root beer floats and collapsing in front of the telly. But as you can probably tell, it’s not easy to simply return to an Amerikan aksent, so vee vere schpeakink in a variation of aksents for zee remainder of the noche, and also for most of the next day, when our German came in handy vile vashink our abuelita‘s truck. I von’t tell you vat really vent on during zat experiencia. I vill simply leave you vis zis:

(insert German/Russian accent)

“I say vater, you say vashink. Vater!”