Woodchuck

[fbhjr]

Our friend Mike, from the flaming arms of love story, met his husband Dave
and they moved in together in Dave’s house out in the country in New
Hampshire. Mike had lived in cities his whole life, so this was a big
change for him.

We were visiting him shortly after he moved there. As we all sat around
the living room talking, Mike suddenly jumped up.
“He’s back!” he shouted.
He ran to the closet, pulled out a rifle, kicked open the screen door and
began shooting out into the yard.
“What the fuck do you think you’re doing?” Dave shouted running over and
taking the rifle away.
“That woodchuck is in our garden again!” Mike shouted.
“That doesn’t mean you can just kick the door open and start shooting!”
Dave said. “Make sure no one is out there. Make sure it is safe to shoot.
Then, slowly aim and take your shot.”
“It’s gone now anyhow,” Mike said.
“Then, put the rifle away. And, make sure the safety is on.”
“I will.”
“I don’t want you shooting a hole in the closet ceiling.”
“I won’t.”
“Again.”
“It only happened that once.”
“Once is enough.”

I am told that the woodchuck was eventually shot and Mike was quite
disappointed when the local taxidermist said it wasn’t worth stuffing it.
But, he did have a recipe for woodchuck stew.

There did come a point, after much more experience, that I thought Mike was
OK with a gun.
But, it was not that day.

Comments

[chris-warrior.livejournal.com]

that would have freaked me the hell out.

[fbhjr.livejournal.com]

Yeah, it did that for us too...