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cenelson
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« Reply #17 on: March 02, 2007, 12:14:09 PM » |
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Bear with me, if you will.
When I was young, my father - a cop - was my hero. I was turning 5, if I recall correctly, when my old man came home with one of those Red Ryder units, for me.
I had no idea it was coming, totally out of the blue. Well, a short primer on how to sight it and what not to point it at, and I was out the door. Killed my first bird within an hour. Many more would follow that one. I was something of a marksman. Sad when I look back; the birds committed no crimes.
At any rate, any who was lucky enough to own one of those old Daisy BB guns with the twist-caps over the ends, covering the loading tubes, remembers that those things would become jam-prone. To correct that when it occurred, you pointed the business end at the ground or out into the wild open and you gave the end-cap a twist. Usually, the BB would then fire. Not sure what would cause it to happen tho.
Well, my old man was attempting to remedy a jam for me one afternoon and I had interrupted his work to do it; absentmindly, he seized the gun and went to twisting at the cap - with his palm flat over the end of the barrel.
POP!
Any who knows me knows I'm salty, meaning I've got a bit of a foul tongue on me depending on my mood and company. I learned most of my good words that afternoon.
My dad threw the BB gun to the deck, and in his palm was a perfectly round entry point where the BB had gone in.
Now, knowing that my BBs made holes in birds and killed them dead, I had a bad feeling my old man was now, similarly, mortally wounded. But he just stood there, cursing Daisy and her sonuvabitchin friend Little Red Rider too, and he massaged that palm of his, continually. Moments dragged on. And then - POP! - out came the copper BB!
Boy howdy! I was thinking, My dad's the toughest guy in the world! I bet he's the best policeman ever!
And in reality, my old man was and to some extent remains a tough act. He's long past cop-dom, but old soldiers of the force remembered him and his acts of courage long past his leaving the PD.
Unfortunately, he was never much a father, which I needed more than a cop. In fact, I think I miss that BB gun and all the long summer days spent with it, chasing cattle birds, mocking birds, cardinals, blue jays, stray dogs, and my brother (now and again).
The End.
C.
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