My rope, lengthened with braided strips of Juliana’s blouse, is weighted at one end with rolled-up vinyl, cannibalised from the top half of the boots, tied into a ball with thread picked out from belt, skirt and anything else I could find. The hairs from the silver wig look promising but are too short to be useful, for this at least.
Of course, the bottom part, with the spiked heels, would be heavier, but they’re far too precious to risk losing.
With my makeshift bola, I take a swing, letting out the length of the ‘cord’ and releasing the ball.
The weight impacts the wall with a dull thud, and drops to the ground…
Hmmm…
That’s never going to work…
Not enough space to swing…
I’ve worked with most hand-weapons you could think of. But this is my first time with a bola. I know they’re u
