I got all of you something, Now quit yer bitching.
Growing up we had an Angel that decorated the top of our Christmas tree. We were an Angel family, not a star one. As a matter of fact to this day when I see a star atop a tree I feel like something is wrong. But that’s a different story.
Our Angel was dressed in green burlap, her wings were tattered and askew and over the years a look of terror developed on her face. You see not only was she the Top of our Christmas tree, she was also the first target that any projectile weapon received by Santa was aimed at.
My father, generally a docile man the size of a bear was the primary offender. Twice that I know of he knocked her off her perch, both times with a BB gun. That’s right he shot her with BB guns. for years I thought the Angel was a victim of friendly fire, that is until I myself, surrounded by the pandemonium that is Christmas morning took a shot at the Angel. I understood then, that sometimes the Angel just needs to be shot, I would claim as my father before me had ,that I was just sighting the gun and one of the kids must have put in a single BB.
I did it with my first 1911, not a real one but it was real to me. This one was made by crossman and it came with a real Army 1911 holster and web belt.(No Doubt pilfered by my Dad from his day job). That was the first of several BB guns I would receive on Christmas. In the years that followed I would get a CO2 pistol and later a Pump Gun. The last being the ultimate in BB armament. It could put a .177 caliber BB thru both side of a steel barrel with ten pumps, or raise a respectable welt on my sister’s ass with one, my sisters ass being the best and largest target of opportunity.
Time passed and the Angel became more and more tattered. It had lived through 3 Boys and their guns and was now facing a generation of grandchildren that ran strong on boys. My dad in his final years had become wheel chair bound and his eye sight was fading. Never one to be deterred, on what turned out to be his final Christmas he took my sons new Nerf Gun and laid waste to the Angel once again.
With these thoughts in mind I looked long and hard for a gift suitable for all of you aspiring Bill Cody’s and Back yard plinkers.
Merry Christmas, the space bar cocks the gun up to three times. The mouse aims, the left mouse button shoots.
As usual … Fantastic read!
Merry Christmas!
Merry Christmas, E4U! And thanks for the gift. (Maybe? 😉 )
Merry Christmas, shipmate, and to all who pass through this site. 🙂
Must… Resist… Jokes…
Merry Christmas, Enigma, and thanks for the link!
Merry Christmas to all.
In those days we lived close to a large wooded area.
She and her friends would decide to take a walk in the woods and I would hide out and snipe them.
Had a 4x scope on that bad boy. She had a large ass.
Related to Kim Kardashian?
Yes. I went there.
172,000 and three accidents.
There are a few places that you can get it to ricochet in the fence and it really racks the score up. It rolls over at 9,999,999 points.
My record is 167 ricochets one shot.
2,406,438 and 10 accidents. Thank you very much. I got a 1,000,000 bonus somehow. (“Ow! I lost mt depth perception”)
I shall retire now. Beat that!
Ok your turn 🙂
My best score – Bounces – 151 (34 from one shot) Accidents – 4 Score 15062
OK, did better second time around. Final score 82474
Great story. Merry Christmas to all. (Excluding the non-CPO, Chevy, and the rest of their ilk.)
I was ten years old when I received my first BB gun. It was a Daisy pump. I used to walk down the street and shoot birds off the power lines. Some of the neighbors would really get pissed off about it. A couple of years later after much use, all you had to do was rack the pump action and it. Would shoot without pulling the trigger. Mucho fire superiority! One day, hunting birds with my older brother, I shot a swallow out of the air with my rapid fire technique. My brother just shook his head and laughed.
Merry Christmas everyone!
Somewhere along the way my Mother, a former artist, made us an angel of styro balls, heavy foil, spray paint and hair spray with some heavy duck cloth. It was really, uhh, abstract, in a totally Picasso-esque way. (It gave me nightmares, okay?)
It sat atop her tree for 20 odd years until she passed. I have often wondered what became of it, hoping it was humanely disposed of along the way somewhere. With fire.
My wife asked a few times what had become of it…no clue had I, nor did I want one.
Then a few weeks back my little brother messaged me- “Tree is up, Moms angel atop again…”
Now I have to figure out a way to steal it…miss that crazy old Irish broad!