I met a young man – o – I dunno… twenty years ago he was younger than me.
He grew up hunting and such in a small down where I grew up fearing random urban violence from plastic guns.
The day I met him, he was in the company of another young man; one he grew up with – hunting and such.
This fella I’m talking about did some time in county surrounding his attempts to teach his good friend something both of their daddy’s tried to drive home before they ever presented their sons with pump action pellet rifles in pursuit of learning them to hunt. And such.
I assure you, their daddy’s taught them not to walk in front of a man when he is cleaning his rifle.
Because….
Accidental death and blah to the blah…..
When this fella’s friend walked in front of him while he and the unspecified third party were cleaning their rifles after using them to kill meat (i.e. supplement their ability to survive according to natural laws that are older than WalMart), he said to his childhood friend… “Hey, Numbnutz… don’t walk in front of a man while he is cleaning his gun….(!)”
To which the buddy replied (over the sound of the TeeVee and with longneck in hand) “What’re Y’gonna DO? Shoot me?”
Bang.
Just a flesh wound, obviously… but requiring a hospital visit and a report of a gunshot wound which inevitably had to be accounted for despite the victims addamant statements that he would prefer not to press charges against his friend who was, after all, attempting to insure that the lessons his father taught him were not completely lost on his retarded ass.
Basically the same reason I am here ministering to you (expletive deleted)’s.
Humboldtkids's Blog 