So Josh (Sara's ridiculously awesome hubby) took Dad and us kids out shooting. We drove out of town to the edge of the farming belt, onto the high desert plateau. It was awesome- a kind of sizzling hot moonscape. No life except for sun-bleached grass, stunted grey-green shrubs and little mounds of dirt which, we were told, were made by subterranean-dwelling "whistle pigs". I still can't say that name without laughing. Whistle pigs.... haha.... okay. A kind of wild guinea pig, apparently. Good target practice for budding hunters. But today we were just going to shoot tins of tomatoes from the clearance aisle at the 7-11.
I can't tell you exactly what the guns were, but there was a .22 rifle (little popgun thing), a .45 calibre pistol, another smaller pistol, a deer-hunting rifle with scope, and a shotgun. You know, the typical "hick-from-Alabama-throws-open-his-front-door-and-yells-'Y'all trespassin' on mah land, clear out before ah blows some holes in yer guts'-kind-of-gun".
And the wierd thing was, it was insanely fun. A bit scary, sure, in the I-could-kill-someone-with-this way, but ridiculously fun. And I wasn't that bad a shot either. Anyway, I digress.
Oh, and the funniest thing was, Josh was showing us his guns (he has a safe full) and said, "I don't have bullets for all of them, but if we need to we can just stop at Wal-Mart on the way and get some."
Where else but America can you buy bullets at Wal-Mart....
Right.
On the way there.
Very American, I thought.
Where we stopped to shoot.
No sound except the sizzle of insects in the grass and the wind whistling in the powerlines.
Child holding lethal weapon.
Caught the shell flying through the air.
Jacob's quarry of choice is "whistle pigs".
Shotgun shell.
I hit it, see?!
Josh was a great instructor.
Redneck.
Over and out :)
