Last Friday, Darlene Ake’s Wewahitchka Elementary School Pre-Kindergarteners discovered a loophole in the district’s Code of Conduct.
No guns, no knives, no weapons of mass destruction are allowed on Gulf County school grounds, no exceptions.
But nothing in the district’s Code of Conduct prohibits the possession of jumbo marshmallows or their use in waging attacks against fellow Pre-Kindergarteners, their parents and School Superintendent Tim Wilder.
Nothing could stop Ake’s students from engaging in a ritual marshmallow fight on school grounds and in plain view of the Wewahitchka public.
And thus, with the law on their side, the Pre-Kindergarteners exited their classroom and marched to a grassy field bordering Hwy. 71, grasping Ziploc baggies brimming with jumbo marshmallows.
On the field, they stood in a circle and observed a pre-fight ritual, eating a single marshmallow.
When Ake sounded the battle cry, they reached into their marshmallow arsenal and let slip the dogs of war.
Being Panhandle-bred, the students had long been denied the snowball fights enjoyed by their northern counterparts.
But for one morning, they felt the rush of hurling a snowy projectile into the face of an unworthy opponent.
And when that opponent was Wilder, they savored the victory even more.
For several minutes, they fought, sparing neither young nor old, friend nor foe.
They plucked soiled marshmallows from the earth and sent them spiraling into the air.
For a moment, the jet-puffed projectiles seemed to blot out the sun.
And just as soon as the fight began, it was over.
Ake called for surrender, and the students dutifully picked the ground clean of marshmallows.
They tossed them into a garbage can and filed back into their room, where cupcakes and other treats awaited the hungry warriors.
The sun shone brightly in the sky and peace returned to Wewahitchka.
Guns and Mallow
The Wewahitchka Pre-Kindergarteners had looked into the eyes of their enemy, but the latest in marshmallow weaponry is ushering in a new age of long-distance mallow warfare.
The Internet abounds with advertisements for guns and other gadgets capable of launching miniature marshmallows over 30 feet.
Camouflage models, chrome laser sights and marshmallow ammunition magazines are all available.
Some websites entice buyers with the promise of free marshmallows with the purchase of a gun, and no background check or waiting periods are required to deter would-be marshmallow criminals.
The Tallahassee-based Marshmallow Fun Company, LLC has created an entire alternate universe to market its marshmallow weaponry.
Marshmallowville is a tiny marshmallow-manufacturing town threatened by parasitic invaders called Marshans who hail from the planet Mars.
Their mission is to “suck the Earth’s core dry of life,” but they have one weakness - marshmallows, which cause their host bodies to shrink and shrivel.
Marshmallowville is protected by the M-Force, a team of three young superheroes who daily combat the dreaded Marshan menace.
Professor Fluffernutter, a certified genius and eccentric billionaire invents the marshmallow-launching weaponry used by M-Force, all of which is available in stores and on the Marshmallow Fun Company’s website:
Marshmallowville: Home of the Marshmallow Shooter, Marshmallow Blaster, Marshmallow Bow and Mallow, Marshmallow Blower, Marshmallowville Marshmallows, and all Marshmallow toy accessories..
Several hobby sites offer detailed instructions on making breath-operated marshmallow guns out of PVC pipe, at a fraction of the cost of commercial weapons.
On the website makezine.com, a message board displays readers’ comments on the topic of homemade marshmallow shooters.
In a post entitled “Marshmellow (sic) Hero,” BoboMan writes: “I made PVC marshmellow (sic) guns for my two boys this weekend. At first they had no idea what I was doing. After my 8-year-old saw the first mini-marshmellow (sic) fly out of the tube and smack the wall, he was hooked and so was his 5-year-old brother.
“Thanks for helping me be a hero for $5.71 (cost for 2 guns).
“My oldest slept with his gun last night and was amazed that when he woke up it smelled like marshmallows (sic.)
“‘Yup,’ I said, ‘I love the smell of marsmellows (sic) in the morning.’ The male bonding has begun.”
Marshmallow Medicine
Marshmallows weren’t always the weapons of choice for the young and young at heart.
In fact, the Marsh Mallow plant (althaea officinalis), from whom the modern day confections take their name, was historically admired for its healing properties.
The Greeks, Arabs and Indians all used the plant extract to quiet coughs.
In Sweets: A History of Candy, Tim Richardson notes that Marsh Mallow root was prescribed for urinary problems in the 1600s.
And nineteenth century doctors cooked Marsh Mallow root extract with egg whites and sugar, producing a hard candy used to soothe children’s sore throats.
In the late 1800s, gelatin replaced Mallow root as a key ingredient in marshmallow production.
The substitute provided a more “stable” marshmallow form, and stripped the candy of its healing legacy.
Today, the marshmallow has strayed far from its original intentions, as evidenced by the growing trend of marshmallow warfare.
From the little town of Wewahitchka to the imperiled community of Marshmallowville, the battle rages on.
Take shelter, and arm thyself with marshmallows.
