RandyMac
Stiff Member
The joys of being a Twin.
I was just sitting there, in the warm sun, contemplating the error of my ways, a rare moment indeed. The old tractor tire I had my skinny ass parked on, had gone flat, the weeds were taking over, webs festooned the scaley rust. Honeybees from hives across the field, humming thier work song in the arbors, made me drowsy. Quail chuckles, Jay squables, Crow commentary competed with hen chatter and an oversized red rooster that crowed with a vein popping effort. I leaned back, digging my Zippo out, setting fire to a Pall Mall, coffee got cold, I stood up to wander off for more coffee. A supersonic wasp zipped over my head and slammed into the side of the shed. The part of my brain that was awake said "Huh, what"? shortly afterwards the lagging sound generated by rapidly expanding gases arrived, followed closely by the second wasp that plowed into the ground in front of my old pick-up. I was already flat and headed for cover when the third round went through and through the Chevy's hood, stopping for a charge in the battery. Projectile number four smacked high into the shed again, I'm thinking that the mother####er hasn't even gotten the range yet, so I start to get ready to lunge for the woodpile. Three feet of snake travel, the next round disspelled all ideas that I was being shot it by a clown, waspy number five cleared my back by a few inches and plowed into the tractor wheel, showering my neck and shoulders with hot little particles. That pissed me off, my normal response to fear or pain is anger, seeing that both were present, I was white hot. Being who I was at the time, I stood up and yelled "That was five you son of a #####" I walked to my truck fumbled under the seat for a heavy revolver, completely forgeting about an H&K 91 behind the seat. Round number six zipped through the cab, glancing off the steering wheel and continued to the shed. Ah, I saw him move 200+ yards away, so I popped up and preceded to launch a series of 240 grainers at him, emptying the cylinder. Must have come close as not another shot was fired. I spent the next hour having my wife pick pieces of copper and lead outta my thin hide, she didn't say a word, but I think I got more damage from her repairs. I got the last bit removed about a year ago, they kept it, what a rip. This kinda crap went on for years, my Bro built up quite a fan club, some were willing enough to try and shoot him. I avoided that area for quite some time, you would think that it might have cooled by now, not so much. Humboldt County, last of the Wild West.
I was just sitting there, in the warm sun, contemplating the error of my ways, a rare moment indeed. The old tractor tire I had my skinny ass parked on, had gone flat, the weeds were taking over, webs festooned the scaley rust. Honeybees from hives across the field, humming thier work song in the arbors, made me drowsy. Quail chuckles, Jay squables, Crow commentary competed with hen chatter and an oversized red rooster that crowed with a vein popping effort. I leaned back, digging my Zippo out, setting fire to a Pall Mall, coffee got cold, I stood up to wander off for more coffee. A supersonic wasp zipped over my head and slammed into the side of the shed. The part of my brain that was awake said "Huh, what"? shortly afterwards the lagging sound generated by rapidly expanding gases arrived, followed closely by the second wasp that plowed into the ground in front of my old pick-up. I was already flat and headed for cover when the third round went through and through the Chevy's hood, stopping for a charge in the battery. Projectile number four smacked high into the shed again, I'm thinking that the mother####er hasn't even gotten the range yet, so I start to get ready to lunge for the woodpile. Three feet of snake travel, the next round disspelled all ideas that I was being shot it by a clown, waspy number five cleared my back by a few inches and plowed into the tractor wheel, showering my neck and shoulders with hot little particles. That pissed me off, my normal response to fear or pain is anger, seeing that both were present, I was white hot. Being who I was at the time, I stood up and yelled "That was five you son of a #####" I walked to my truck fumbled under the seat for a heavy revolver, completely forgeting about an H&K 91 behind the seat. Round number six zipped through the cab, glancing off the steering wheel and continued to the shed. Ah, I saw him move 200+ yards away, so I popped up and preceded to launch a series of 240 grainers at him, emptying the cylinder. Must have come close as not another shot was fired. I spent the next hour having my wife pick pieces of copper and lead outta my thin hide, she didn't say a word, but I think I got more damage from her repairs. I got the last bit removed about a year ago, they kept it, what a rip. This kinda crap went on for years, my Bro built up quite a fan club, some were willing enough to try and shoot him. I avoided that area for quite some time, you would think that it might have cooled by now, not so much. Humboldt County, last of the Wild West.
