There was a well worn foot path leading from my home to Ronnie Barrows home. The grass never grew there even though the front yard had thick carpet grass. Our dads were best friends. His dad was a good bowler and so was his mom. I remember our parents bowling together. Fishing and hunting bound us together and we had many adventures. We learned to hunt with sling shots. In the winter, Cedar Waxwing birds would migrate through our neighborhood by the thousands. They would eat fermented berries, become drunk and crap all over everything. We sneaked up close range and took em out with our slingshots at first, then later on we both got BB guns. Target practice on tin cans in the backyard. We became good shots, and one time I shot a flying dove outa the air with my BB gun. It was a lucky shot, fersure. During target practice I could see the BBs on their trajectory to the target. If I missed the first shot, I was able adjust the aim and usually hit the 2nd shot. After a while I could shoot without using the sights, just by visualization on the target and the path of the BB. We had a few BB gun wars and one time Ronnie shot me in the ass. I was trying to advance on his position behind a bush, and I thought I was so smart. I grabbed a metal trash can lid and used it as a shield. I advanced out into the open and squatted down behind the shield. Ronnie shot low and the BB went under the shield and stung my ass.
Posted on: Tue, 19 Aug 2014 03:47:36 +0000
Trending Topics
Recently Viewed Topics
© 2015