This is My Rifle, This is My Gun...

Liz and I are out on the Cape this weekend visiting Jeff and Lisa. We went fishing, we drank, we "watched their bubbles" while they dove for lobster (diving folks should know the lingo), we drank some...and did I mention we had some drinks?

Just a few hours ago, Jeff and I went to the shooting range. We got to shoot stuff. Nothing in particular. Targets. Small woodland creatures. Grass. Sky. You know...the usual.

For those who don't know, I'm not a huge gun guy. I don't have one, I'm not in a rush to go out and get one, and I've only fired a gun once. Granted it was an M-16, but that's besides the point. Well, today we fired off an arsenal. We started with the Walther .22, then the Sig 9, followed by a Colt AR-15. That one was cool. Very Rambo.

Then it was time for a little Texas Book Depository re-enactment. We each fired off a few shots with his 30-aught-6. Damn, what a kick. And I'm not bad from 50 yards. 3 shots of 4 in the bullseye. 3 shots in 10 seconds...I don't think so. There must've been someone on that grassy knoll.

The last one almost kicked my ass. 12 gauge Mossberg. 2 pops. First one almost took off my right arm at the shoulder. The second one did. I'm actually typing with just my left hand. Not really, but it was a good visual, wasn't it?

So by the end of it, we put some holes in stuff, my shoulder hurts, and I still don't want a gun. But popping off a few rounds sure is fun. Just hope no one at the Post Office finds out I've been practicing.