New Toy

When our neighbor convinced Keith we were just days away from anarchy and a personal arsenal was the only way to survive I was skeptical. I'm not sure what doomsday they were preparing for but it involved firearms. Lots of firearms. The bigger the better. They were constantly looking for bigger and better toys to show off to each other. They wanted something big enough to basically decapitate the enemy, whoever that turned out to be. They were always kind of vague on that detail. A St. Louis street gang? An al-Queda operative? Alien invaders?

I always thought they were letting their paranoia run wild, but didn't see any harm in it. As long as they didn't join the Klan or some crazy prepper group.

Let the boys have their toys.

But then a surprising thing happened.

I found out I liked shooting.

Not the pants bazookas they liked. Those are a) too expensive, b) too heavy, and c) kick like mules. No, what I like are simple little 22s. Easy to load, easy to conceal, and easy to shoot.

And cheap. You wouldn't believe how expensive those other bullets are. Plus, once everybody started panicking about Obama coming to take their little toys away people started buying guns and bullets like the zombie apocalypse was just days away. It was like bread and milk when meteorologists predict snow.

But, like Keith & my neighbor, everybody wanted bigger, more powerful guns. Assault rifles with night-scopes and armor piercing bullets.

Not harmless little 22s. Only pussies and little old ladies carry 22s.

Well, this little old lady isn't embarrassed to let the world know I love my harmless little 22s. Maybe they won't blow a hole in you big enough to shove a grapefruit through, but since I don't expect to ever shoot a real live person that doesn't matter. I just like target shooting. Blowing up soda bottles. Putting holes in pictures of zombies or little green men.

Unfortunately, like everything else in this world, even guns break down. My favorite gun is a little snub-nosed Smith & Wesson revolver. I got it for my birthday about 5 years ago. It's a lovely little gun. Shiny silver, like something Gene Autry would use. I named it Coco after the Coco Puffs commercial. I'm cuckoo for Coco.

But like I said, even guns break down. Even Coco. It's an old gun, made in 1964. So actually, it's older than me. It was a lovely gun for a long time. Light, accurate, no kickback.

One day when Keith tried to pop out the cylinder it wouldn't move. Coco was on the disabled list. If you can't pop out the cylinder you can't remove the empty shells & reload it. So basically I had a shiny gun-shaped paperweight.

Then, just like Gene Autry, my dad rode in to save the day. When he found out Coco was broke-o he loaned me one of his guns. It's another lovely 22, but this one's not Smith & Wesson, it's a Ruger SR22. An automatic, not a revolver, but that's okay by me. Most of Keith's guns are automatic. 6 bullets just aren't enough for a manly man like him. But loading the clips for his guns is a son of a bitch. It's hard to shove the bullets in the clips because the springs are so strong. Those bullets are big & heavy, so the springs have to be industrial strength, but 22 bullets hardly weigh more than a snotty Kleenex.

So now I have a new toy to play with. I went shooting Sunday afternoon and had a blast. It took a while to get used to the way it shoots. The first shot surprised me. I forgot automatics have slides that jump back and smack your hand if you're not careful. And when I shot that first clip, 10 shots, I only hit the target once.

How embarrassing.

I think the sights need adjusting but we didn't have a screwdriver where we were shooting. Even with the sight set too high I was still able to adjust the angle & started hitting the target more. I might not have actually hit the spot I was aiming for every time, but at least I didn't completely miss the target any more.