Sunday, December 28, 2008

Quit your sniveling

Summer, 1985

Dave bet me a beer that I couldn't hit at least one mudhen out of this bunch of about 20 or so that was bobbing around a couple of hundred yards away from his trailer using only 5 shots from my 22 pistol.
Sucker, I thought, grabbing my H&R 999. I sat in my lawn chair next to Dave and drew a bead on the flock of soon to be freaked out birds. I knew the first shot might be low, and I intended to walk the shots quickly into the flock.
"Ouch," Dave said at my first shot.
"Aw, shut up, ya pussy" I said as I thumbed off my second shot.
"Motherfucker, you shoot me again, and I'm gonna kick your ass!" Dave yelled at me.
I looked at his arm and there was blood running all over the place. He also had two great big chunks of lead in his arm. I thought he’d been sniveling about the powder flash from the cylinder/barrel gap. I didn't know that the pistol had jumped time (H&R 999s are notorious for that) and every time I pulled the trigger, I sent half the bullet out the barrel, and the other half into Dave.
He said he could understand me shooting him once, but twice was pure meanness.