SHOOTOUT AT ALLENBEE FIELDS

So, after the epic invasion of snakes over the past few weeks, Charlie is keen for me to use his shotgun again.

His thought process is that it’s better for me to try and kill a snake than let it go.

My thought process is fuck the snake.  It can do what it likes, and I’ll hide in the house.

Now, not only do I not want to use his stupid elephant gun, the fact that I cannot access his gun safe anyway is a minor issue as well.

You see, as I don’t have a gun licence, and the weapons at our property are not mine, I do not have a key to Charlie’s gun safe, nor do I know where he stores it. 

Nor do I want to.

Ignorance is bliss, and also a legal requirement.  If I knew where he kept the key, or how to access the safe, Charlie would get into shit loads of trouble.

Again, ignorance is bliss.

So my gorgeous cousin Mick comes for a visit, and brings his 410 with him.  Mick and Charlie (who have a love crush on each other – they get along so well), call it a girly shotgun.  Light, easy to use, and no major kick.

It’s perfect for wussy girls like me, and perfect for snakes.

Charlie said that if I try Mick’s 410 and can handle it comfortably, he will buy one, and I have a means to dispose of snakes.

Insert ‘I can’t access your gun safe anyway, you clown.  What’s the fucken point?’ 

Minor problem *rolls eyes*.

So the other afternoon, Kerri (Mick’s gorgeous partner), Iris and I are comfortably chatting in the kitchen, when Charlie declares that I have to give this fucken 410 a crack.

Great.

‘Do I have to?’ visions of me shooting clouds with the double barrel some time ago flash through my mind.

‘Yep.   I want to see if you can use it.’ Charlie says gently.

‘Okay.’ I sigh heavily, and drag my reluctant arse out of the chair. 

I still don’t see the point when I can’t access the weapon anyway.  Fuck me.

So I follow the boys outside, and Mick shows me how to use the gun.

‘Best give her a dry run with it first, Mick.’ Suggests Charlie, and Mick hands me the gun unloaded.  He explains about cocking it and firing and opening it to unload.  I have a couple of clicks of the gun, easy enough.

However, I know that firing an unloaded gun as far different to firing a loaded one.

Charlie walks out into the middle of the yard and places an empty beer can on the ground.  As he walks back, he says ‘Aim for that love.  Doesn’t matter if you miss. Just give it a go; see how you feel handling the gun.’

‘He’s right.  Don’t worry if you miss.  It’s just something to aim at.’  Mich echoes reassuringly.  ‘It’s just about getting a feel for the gun.’

I load the gun, as Mick has shown me, cock the trigger, and get the can in my sights.  I remember Charlie telling me not to put my finger on the trigger until I’m ready to actually fire, so I line this fucken thing up with my finger a mile away from the bang button.

The can is about twenty meters away from me, and Iris, Kerri, Mick and Charlie all take a step behind me, much to my comfort.

‘Don’t worry if you miss.  Just have a go.’ Charlie says again, and I gently squeeze the trigger.

With a loud bang and absolutely no kick, the girly shotty goes off, and the beer can bounces across the yard!  Everyone cheers because I’ve arsed my first shot.

Little do any of them realise that I’m a crack with a gun.  Mmmm…

‘Well done, sweetie!’ Charlie cries as I crack the gun and take the bullet out.  Mick wanders over to the can whilst I hold the gun open (safe, as Charlie calls it), waiting for him to return.

Mick and Charlie look at the bullet and discuss the type of bullet and how many fucken pellets are in it, and blaa blaa blaa… and considering the distance I was away from the gun, I’ve put about eight slugs into the can.

Apparently, I did well.  The boys are thrilled, and I just smile.

Whatevs.

Mick places the can about five meters away, and asks me to have another go, because it’s different shooting something much closer, apparently.

‘Now don’t stress if you miss, cos it’s a lot closer this time, and sometimes guns are sighted for further distances….’ Charlie starts to explain.  I know he’s just trying to reassure me, because he figures I’ll miss.

I load her up, have another crack and send the can dancing across the yard again.  This time, it’s just a mangled mess.

Mick just smiles at me, and I empty the gun and hand it back to him.  ‘That’s enough for me, I think.’ I smile, and he winks.

‘Well done sweetie!’ Charlie yells.  ‘Well done! You’ve done me proud! I’m really impressed!’

‘Well, she is awesome.’ Inserts Kerri with a laugh, and I give her a sly wink.

Later that evening, whilst we’re chilling on the verandah, the boys bring out their air rifles and line up a few water-filled beer cans in the yard.

They’re shooting at the cans, which are about twenty meters away, and narrowly missing.  They’re leaning against the verandah railing, taking ages to line up the cans before firing.

‘How hard can it be?’ I ask, giving them a bit of shit.  Naturally, a string of profanities follows, with the usual ‘well, you come and do better.’

Again, I drag my arse out of the comfort of the new Jack and Jill seats that Iris bought us for Christmas, and stroll over the end of the verandah where they’re set up.

Charlie hands me the air rifle, and I remember how to crack this and load her up.  Easy.

‘If you line the bottom of the V here, and the top of the barrel here,’ he points to various places on the gun, ‘and aim at the top third of the can, you should be right,’ he instructs, pointing at the two sights on the gun.

‘Well, that’s clearly working for you…’ I smirk.

‘Go fuck yourself.’ He mutters, as I take aim at the target.

‘You may want to lean on the railing to steady yourself…’ he suggests.

‘Naahhh… I’ll be right.’  I squeeze the trigger, hear the familiar crack of the air rifle, and the bullet hits ground about a foot above the cans. 

‘Missed that one by a mile.’ Charlie smirks as I reload. 

‘I’m just getting my eye in, thank you very much.’

‘Ah-huh.’ He says sarcastically as I load the air rifle again.  I line up the cans, squeeze the trigger, and knock over one of the little fuckers.

‘Get fucked!’ Charlie throws his hands in the air as I reload.  Mick just laughs.

I line the cans up again, and bang; knock another one over.

‘Oh c’mon!’ Charlie cries again in disbelief.

‘I think we have a closet sniper in our midst.’ Mick smiles, and the two girls watching cheer and laugh at the boys.

‘I can’t believe you arsed that…’ Charlie mutters.

‘Does the air rifle break skin?’ I ask innocently.

‘I’ll take the gun back, thanks.’ He said, and I happily hand it over to him.

‘See.’ I smile sweetly.  ‘I told you it wasn’t that hard.’

‘Get back in the kitchen where you belong.’ Charlie mutters, loading up the rifle again.

‘Go fuck yourself.’ I smirk, and return to my seat.

My job here is done.

Peace out.