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pm 6:38 Sunday 8 February 2004
You have to understand how strange it is to own a handgun. I mean,
I knew I didn't want to actually kill anybody, and my penis is certainly
large enough. So what am I doing with this gun?
There's a beauty in it, I immediately realized, and as I gazed
at it and felt its heft, I almost trembled. I made my first appointment
with the instructor, who had graduated 3rd in her class at the Police
Academy then decided not to become a police officer!
At the indoor pistol range she started to go over safety rules,
and I almost surprised myself by telling them to her! Always treat
the gun as if it is loaded, don't point it in any direction where
there might be living things, including down at the floor if you're
on the second floor of a building, which we were! Things like that.
"I learned all the safety rules at summer camp," I laughingly
told her, suddenly remembering a little.
Then we went out on the range which had a happy smell of gunpowder
in it ... and after affixing a paper target to an overhead
wire, and learning the proper button to push to send it downrange,
I proceeded to place an entire series of shots in a small cluster
right in the bull's-eye!
For some reason, I wasn't surprised, though she was!
When I got home, my entire body began to shake, and laying down
on my bed, trembling all over, I actually remembered.
It was the scent memory of gunpowder that did it.
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