It had to be cheap whipped cream, too

Star Beacon

June 13, 2009 10:49 pm

— I got up two hours early the other weekend to be assaulted.
I was hit and hit and hit again until I could feel the stickiness of liquid running down my face onto my neck.
The assaults came so quick and fast I couldn't see. One assailant I was able to jump up and grab, but for the most part, they got away.
It was all for the best. Oh yeah, and for charity, too.
You see, myself, Beacon sports writer Bob Ettinger and others got hit with pies at the first-ever pet care expo at Ashtabula Towne Square, to benefit the Animal Protective League.
Another Beacon staffer, Marjorie Beth Trax Page (she insists on being called by all four names), was in charge of putting the event together and quickly enlisted help.
Now full disclosure here: They weren't technically pies. After all, you got two throws for $1. Where can you get a pie for 50 cents and still make a profit throwing it? It was more like those cupcake papers with cheap whipped cream inside.
Somehow after an hour of those things being heaved at me, I never did taste the stuff. But those who did told me it isn't the brand they would buy for strawberry shortcake.
My initial reaction when I learned these missiles would be heaved at me was to have an APL dog with me to lick the mess off of my face. But after having been hit a few times, I'm glad nobody took me up on the offer. The whipped cream was a sticky enough mess. Having dog saliva on me probably wouldn't have helped a whole lot. Good old paper towel and a pair of goggles were my friends.
The rule was you had to throw between two X's in front of me. Kids got a prize no matter what. Adults just took out their aggressions in case they didn't agree with a column I wrote or maybe they pretended I was their boss.
Mostly I think they did it to have fun and help the APL. Everybody had a smile on their faces, even me.
Now I never had a pie, or paper cup of whipped cream thrown at me before. I actually did watch a Three Stooges short the night before in which there was a pie fight. Those snooty society types during the Great Depression were once again getting their comeuppance, thanks to Moe, Larry and Curly.
I remember reading Moe Howard was an excellent pie thrower. He could hit the targets dead-on. Those Columbia shorts had to be done quickly and inexpensively. So when it came to pie fights, Moe did most of the throwing.
Added to this, these were working sets with carpentry tools and nails off camera. Once the cameras rolled, they kept rolling as long as possible. So after a bunch of pies were thrown, Moe would scoop up the pie debris and recycle, throwing that at the other talent.
That meant you had the added possibility of an errant nail being thrown at you with the pie.
The pies being hoisted at me didn't come too thick and fast, although the first time someone drew back and hoisted the confectionery, I felt a bit uneasy. But not for long. PLOP, I was quickly blinded and felt something cold and gooey.
This being cheap whipped cream, it also tended to be watery, going down my neck.
Remember I said you had to throw between the X's? Well, kids were able to break the rule. Someone would pick them up until they were parallel to me, close and BOOM!
And Margie Four Names, the one who asked me in the first place, you would think she would be a bit concerned with my well being. Not a chance. As difficult as this is to understand, she actually went past the closest X and slammed whipped cream in my face. So it was my duty to break the rules too, leave my post and although blinded by the debris on my face, caught up with Margie and smeared some whipped cream on her face, too.
Then two-gun Louise, aka the wife, showed up. Now why would she be here? She saunters over, puts down $1, picks up a "pie" and throws. But most of it hit the top of the edifice I was standing behind. The whipped cream splattered over the top and hit the back of my shirt.
I must point out even if you are a bad shot, some of the whipped cream always hits its target.
Not happy with the initial throw, she hit me again, this time closer to the center. Then another $1 and another round.
When my time was up, I cleaned up the best I could with paper towel but thought to make sure, I would walk down to the public restrooms and use a little water.
I didn't realize until I arrived, having gone by numerous people, that I still had lots of whipped cream all over me. People, here is a tip: Never, but never, depend on paper towel exclusively to get rid of whipped cream.
So I started washing my face and neck. For awhile, it just moved the whipped cream around. I had to pour on more and more water. Finally, very wet but whipped-cream free, I grabbed paper towel from the dispenser. There was one little sheet left on the role.
I made do and went back to the expo, enjoying other people getting zapped in the face.
The most popular part of the expo apparently was a pet psychic. People wanted to know what their pets were thinking. Well, I can tell you what they were thinking as they saw me getting hit with those pies.
“Boy, I wish I could lick up some of that stuff.”

Lebzelter is special sections editor. E-mail him at bobleb@starbeacon.com.

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