[Sca-cooks] The Whipped Cream Fight- the straight skinny

[Laura C. Minnick]

At 06:33 AM 1/28/03 -0700, you wrote:
>Yeah, un-huh.....keep working on your story, there.....
>Besides, I thought it was the *principality* seneschal you usually used
>whipped cream with....;-P
>--maire, running away, fast

No no, this was years ago, er ten?- I was Regional Seneschal for Rivers,
and my friend Gwilym was Kingdom Seneschal. There had been an 'incident' at
July Coronation, when he stopped by my camp late in the evening, he'd been
drinking, and so had we, and we were eating fresh blackberries with whipped
cream- we were just drunk enough that we'd devolved into squirting the
whipped cream directly into our mouths and then adding berries (or not). So
Gwilym stops by, we chat, and I get the urge to put whipped cream on his
nose (hey, we had been smearing whipped cream on each others noses and it
was great fun). But we were all sitting in a circle, wrapped up in cloaks
because it was cold out, so there I am, slowly peeling out from under the
cloaks and I was standing up when Tristan (Gryphonoak- remember him?) said
idly, and too casually "She has the whipped cream" and when I was about 6
inches away, Gwilym's eyes suddenly went *boink* and he ran for it. I
chased him for a bit, but I was wearing long skirts and he wasn't. So I
went back to camp and we drank some more... (don't mix wine coolers and
mead- oh GAWD...)

So- word got out, and we were teasing Gwilym about running. Well, he wasn't
having the easiest time of it as KS, and he was getting ready to step down.
But we though we'd have some fun with the rumor mill. So we both let on
that we were mad at each other, and about three weeks later, at William
Tell Tourney, we staged a duel.

Full duel, he said something rude, I said something rude, it escalated. He
fired me. I quit. I got to use my joke" What's the difference between
Gwilym Moore de Montfort and a flounder? One's a scum-sucking bottom
dweller, and the other's... a FISH!" He had one too- I don't remember it.
So he pulls out this black leather gauntlet (very pretty BTW) and threw it
at my feet, challenging me to a duel. EVERY eye in the lodge was on us by
this point. I picked it up, said "You will remember that I issued the
challenge three weeks ago, and you fled like a coward!" and slapped him
across the face with it- POP! Everyone went Oooh! with great sucking-in of
breath...

We step outside, and there's Tristan, who'd been egging us on in this
matter for weeks. He has The Tray, piled with several canisters of whipped
cream, a couple tubs of Cool-Whip, a couple of big spoons and spatulas. So
Tristan's in the middle, Gwilym and I each choose a can of whipped cream,
we stand back to back, and Tristan tells us to count ten paces, turn, and
fire. So One, Two, thr- and I wheel around and yell "NOW!" and Gwilym and I
douse Tristan in whipped cream. He stands there and takes it (what else
could he do, he's holding the tray and besides, it's too late), saying "I
will repay, I will repay..." the whole time.

So now we turn against each other, and I discover that all but the can that
Gwilym has has had all the gas sucked out. And Gwilym's henchmen all look a
little green around the gills. Gwilym's getting me pretty good and my can
will only go PPPFFFTTTTppp. He turned away from me and is doing the "Am I
good or what?" to the crowd, and taking bows. I pick up a tub of Cool Whip,
grab up a handful, and lobbed it over. I have a pretty good arm when I need
to. It hit him in the neck and ran down inside his tunic. Suddenly he's
open-mouthed, immobilized, so I grab another handful of Cool Whip, walk
over, stick my hand down his tunic and smear it around. Front and back.
He's just looking horrified and making little "oh. oh. oh." noises. I smear
a bunch in his hair (what little there is) and all over his face. The crowd
is ROARING. Duchess Hlutwiga is laughing so hard she falls off of the
picnic table she's perched on.

I take my bows, it appears that I've won, and we all retreat to my camp,
where Malcolm and Robyn had heated harge pots of water, and there's soap
and shampoo and clean towels (I run a luxurious camp). Tristan is still
muttering. Gwilym is choking. He's got whipped cream in his ears. I peeled
off my veil and the top layer of tunics, and I'm clean- but no- I forgot to
pin my braids back! Oh! So I rinsed out my braids, put a clean tunic on,
and went back to the lodge to much cheering and approbation.

But that is not the end- oh no! Couple weeks later, the rumors are coming
in... I got fired, I quit, he slapped me. I spit at him. We had a
knock-down-drag-out screaming fight in the lodge... oh yeah...

Gwilyn whined that he smelled of vanilla for weeks, and couldn't get the
whipped cream out of his ears. And then...

About a month later, I autocratted Tournament of the Lions, a late 12th c
style tourney, most of which was challenge matches. My champion, Aleyn the
Younger, stepped up and declared loudly "Baron Gwilym! I have aught with
you!" Gwilym looked surprised and a little apprehensive. Aleyn declared
that since Gwilym had unjustly and without cause assaulted his consort.
Gwilym insists that isn't what happened. Aleyn begs to differ, and
challenges his to a bout- a outrance- that is, for real (as much as we get
in the SCA- it would mean they retain their wounds, and if they die,
they're out of the tournament). Gwilym agrees. The host of the tournament,
Baron Korwyn, isn't crazy about this, but he allows it, with these
restrictions: Maces, no shields, first blood. So they go to fighting. I'm
tucked under Cornelius von Rugens arm- I can't watch and suddenly I can't
breathe. Flurry of blows, and Gwilym puts up his free arm to block, and
yells "AW, SH*T!" as he's forgotted it's to first blood, and now he's lost.
So I am vindicated, before God and all. :-)

And Gwilym is still my friend. :-)

'Lainie
-who can't use a spray can of whipping cream without thinking of that
day...
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Convivitas et Schmoozitas R Us