Cheryl and I went to the range last night for a little target practice. We hadn’t been in ages and it showed; I was way, way off my game. With my first clip, I had 3 rounds that didn’t even hit the guy. They hit the target, but Jose himself was unscathed. ‘Jose’ is what we named the menacing, AK47-wielding, bushy-moustached hoodlum on our targets. We use tactical silhouettes sometimes too, but Jose is fun because you can target specific body parts. If you plug him square in the eye, Cheryl will sing, to the tune of the National Anthem, "Jose cannot seeeeee!"
I did a bit better as time went on and by my 5th and 6th clips, I was getting some half-decent clusters. Then my gun jammed, a rare occurrence with WinClean ammo, so I ejected the round and tried to continue. My gun wouldn’t fire! Cheryl looked at it, tried a few things, put in a different magazine and was perplexed. She summoned the rangemaster - not the usual fellow who’s a very nice guy named, I think, Walt, but some firearms mega-genius who, after piddling with it for a while, handed it back and said, “Uh...something’s wrong with it. Maybe the trigger mechanism?” Well, thank you, Captain Obvious! Us poor widdle stupid girr-ruls would never have guessed!
Captain Obvious: Uh...before you leave, I can give you the name and number of a real good gunsmith. He does excellent work.
Cheryl: We already know the name of a really good gunsmith. We call him “Dad”.
Among other esoteric hobbies, my dad makes replica black powder pistols. He has a hella cool pirate pistol with brass trim but I’m still not allowed to play with it. Funny, at the time I didn’t think he really meant that whole ‘banned for thirty years’ thing - I mean, he never liked that waterbed anyway. But I’m sure he can fix my gun; he fixed the slide on it about a year ago. It’s very important to me because it’s not technically my gun, it’s Cheryl’s gun, and I’d hate to have broken something with which she trusted me. How does one break a gun, anyway? I’ve broken lots of stuff, like glasses and, lord knows, Playstation controllers, but how the hell do you break a Smith & Wesson 9mm?!? Leave it to me...
Of course, there are worse things to break. Just ask Ilaire Coroiu, whose penis exploded during sex. I’m NOT kidding.
I did a bit better as time went on and by my 5th and 6th clips, I was getting some half-decent clusters. Then my gun jammed, a rare occurrence with WinClean ammo, so I ejected the round and tried to continue. My gun wouldn’t fire! Cheryl looked at it, tried a few things, put in a different magazine and was perplexed. She summoned the rangemaster - not the usual fellow who’s a very nice guy named, I think, Walt, but some firearms mega-genius who, after piddling with it for a while, handed it back and said, “Uh...something’s wrong with it. Maybe the trigger mechanism?” Well, thank you, Captain Obvious! Us poor widdle stupid girr-ruls would never have guessed!
Captain Obvious: Uh...before you leave, I can give you the name and number of a real good gunsmith. He does excellent work.
Cheryl: We already know the name of a really good gunsmith. We call him “Dad”.
Among other esoteric hobbies, my dad makes replica black powder pistols. He has a hella cool pirate pistol with brass trim but I’m still not allowed to play with it. Funny, at the time I didn’t think he really meant that whole ‘banned for thirty years’ thing - I mean, he never liked that waterbed anyway. But I’m sure he can fix my gun; he fixed the slide on it about a year ago. It’s very important to me because it’s not technically my gun, it’s Cheryl’s gun, and I’d hate to have broken something with which she trusted me. How does one break a gun, anyway? I’ve broken lots of stuff, like glasses and, lord knows, Playstation controllers, but how the hell do you break a Smith & Wesson 9mm?!? Leave it to me...
Of course, there are worse things to break. Just ask Ilaire Coroiu, whose penis exploded during sex. I’m NOT kidding.
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