So I shot a gun.
I’d never shot a gun before. We didn’t have them in my house when I was a kid. I think my dad had one but he never had it around.
I tried to kill a can. The can survived. Of course, the gun I shot was a 357 or something like that and my ears rang for 24 hours after I shot the damn thing. If I were going to review the shooting of the gun, the only thing I’d say is that it did exactly what Aunt B. said some time back and that is it went Crack-Pow.
As I talk just about like I Twitter (which, you can ask Badger Beth that I’ve been practicing lately in obscure ways. I tell her it’s like twittering but, you know, with words and looking at people. I will randomly say “Look a cat in a sweater.” “Fruit Loops taste like fruit suck” or “If I was On Sig’s boat on Deadliest Catch, I would be tired yet awesome.”
You know, random things.
Badger indulges me in this social experiment by ignoring me. I put it up on Twitter and had a rather lively conversation about it over there but realize that I hadn’t navel-gazed over here about it.
As for the gun, I don’t have any idea why I shot it. I never had before. Now I can say I did. There is no purpose or reason behind it. No liberal observation. It was loud.
No can was killed in this experiment.
And Mabel rode on the back of a four-wheeler because she wouldn’t ride in a truck when we went to shoot.
On another note, I have not ever really ridden a four-wheeler much nor, until this spring, have I ever hung out in the country but, you know, Goosepond Swamp Monster and all.
I’m a townie. Yes, there are different societal systems in Hooterville. As I continue my quest to find gainful employment in a place where I can eat sushi every day without having to drive an hour, I’m experiencing all I can. I have also realized that mosquitoes think I’m a bar and grille as they dine on me unmercifully when I’m enjoying the spoils of the farm.
To keep my street cred, I did shoot the gun in a tie-dye T-shirt.
Just saying.