February 13, 2008
'Splain this to me
Originally published December 25, 2003
Jack got a gun for Christmas. He told me that it was a .22, but it has an attachment to make it a .21. I've gotta see that thing tomorrow. I've never seen a .21 and I've never seen any .21 ammunition.
Jack becomes confused sometimes.
Quinton didn't make it over to the Crackerbox until well after noon (it seems that what Jennifer wrote in her email about Christmas Day was very fungible, depending on her mood and her memory). In other words, she fucked me over again. What the hell... I am accustomed to that kind of treatment anymore.
We didn't make it to Mom's house because Quinton arrived so late today, but she's making biscuits and gravy in the morning, and we'll be there shortly after first light. I'll probably miss my brother, but his gifts will keep until he visits mama again. I bought him some fine stuff from my friend willy, who runs a most excellent web site if you want to buy musical equipment. Good shit at a fair price is available there.
Aw, fuck it. I don't feel much like blogging today.
I own one almost exactly like it, and I've used it numerous times to knock squirrels out of my bird feeders and run cats out of my yard. (Pump 10 times for the squirrels-- that equals a dead squirrel. Pump five times for a cat-- that equals a cat with it's ass on fire as it runs away and never comes back.) When you fire it, the rifle makes a very quiet "thumff!" noise, so you can shoot it off your back porch without attracting a lot of attention.
I have no idea what Jack is going to do with that kind of gun. Hell, he'll probably put his eye out if I'm not around to mentor him.
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