Clareified

Sometimes what happens in Vegas ends up on my blogs.

“Go get Osama for me.”
Huh?
He tilted his head to my stack of crap.
“Oh.”
I flipped through my targets and found the one he asked for.
“You got it! You did in one minute what Washington couldn’t do in eight years and two wars.”
The customer ahead of me was already on to shooting his handgun. It was so loud. No, whatever you are imagining, amplify it by 100 decibels loud. So loud, I can’t even put the word in all caps because it will hurt my ears with the memory, loud. I jumped every time he pulled the trigger. This made Luis, understandably nervous about handing me a loaded automatic weapon.
“Easy girl. We’re going to train that fear right out of you.”
I smiled. Then jumped. He showed me how to hold the butt of the gun and how to brace the nose of it while I lined up my shot by looking through the sight thingie. I was still jumping at regular intervals as my next door neighbor emptied his clip.
Luis asked me if I was ready. I nodded. Then jumped. He clipped Osama to the target and reeled him out to about halfway down the range.
“You ready, girl?”
No. Definitely. Absolutely not.
“Yeah.”
I squeezed the trigger, nothing happened.
“Oh, wait,” Luis said as he took the gun from my hand and unlatched or latched something or other, “you’re good now.”
I repositioned the gun to my shoulder.

Read the whole thing. I mean, if you want, if you don’t that’s cool. I mean, hell with you.

This entry was posted by Dawn Summers on Thursday, January 29th, 2009 at 4:37 am and is filed under Personal. You can follow any responses to this entry through the RSS 2.0 feed. You can leave a response, or trackback from your own site.