When I was 13, I got my first real gun. It was an old .22 rifle that my father and I always carried it with us fishing. We fished off a Jon-boat and would go up in the shallows of Lake Lavon fed by the East Fork of the Trinity river. We paddled along and up the river, throwing top water plugs under the over hanging trees and enticing some pretty decent large mouth bass into exploding all over them.
There were always snakes dangling off branches and squiggling through the water. We would stay long after dark and you needed something just in case.
One time we were way up the river when it starts the pours of rain. We beat it back to the shore and threw every thing into the station wagon along with the boat. The boat just fit nice and snug inside.
A few weeks later a friend came by to see my rifle. I raised it to my eye and doing what everyone knows never to do, I sighted in on the TV and squeezed off the trigger. Twenty-two's have no kick, and even less report. I didn't realize we hadn't unloaded the gun until I smelled the powder smoke.
I knew the television was history. Looking at it was a formality. The sound was still working, but there it sat. A picture tube with a nice clean gunshot right through the center.
That aged me a few years. Waiting for my father to come home added a few more. He came in from work and sat down at the dinner table. Me being there when he got home let him know there was a problem. I was never home during daylight hours. My face told him the rest.
He looked perplexed before he scanned the room. He saw the TV. He looked back at me and laughed like I didn't know a person could laugh. Especially someone with a gut shot television.
Move this story up to the seven months of living with the barbarian. We talked about this incident, and she told me she had called him on the phone and told him before he got home and to go easy on me.
Damned I could have sworn he saw it for the first time when he came in. Oh well, I guess you know what you are talking about.
Thinking back now, I remember. She had been gone all day as usual. She got home less than 30 minutes before him. He had an hour drive home from work. There were no cell phones then.
The bitch was lying.
Stone cold and to my face. Lying like a rug.
I was reading a fellow blogger's post about gas lighting and it made me think of this. How someone can tell you something you know is a lie and you would rather think yourself crazy than to think someone else is a liar.
"Four Laws of Firearm Safety
1) All firearms are loaded. - There are no exceptions. Don't pretend that this is true. Know that it is and handle all firearms accordingly. Do not believe it when someone says: "It isn't loaded."
2) Never let the muzzle of a firearm point at anything you are not willing to destroy. - If you would not want to see a bullet hole in it do not allow a firearm's muzzle to point at it.
3) Keep your finger off the trigger unless your sights are on the target. - Danger abounds if you keep your finger on the trigger when you are not about to shoot. Speed is not gained by prematurely placing your finger on the trigger as bringing a firearm to bear on a target takes more time than it takes to move your finger to the trigger.
4) Be sure of your target and what is behind it. - Never shoot at sounds or a target you cannot positively identify. Know what is in line with the target and what is behind it (bullets are designed to go through things). Be aware of your surroundings whether on a range, in the woods, or in a potentially lethal conflict."