Why Clumsy People Should Never Be Given Heavy Artillery
(Longtitle, but it really gives you a feel about what is to come)

Once upon a time there were four rednecks who decided to go shooting. The first redneck was named Kevin. Kevin grew up in West Jordan in a gangsta sorta way, then moved to Cedar City where he learned to art of pipe bombs and shooting jack rabbits. (He now feels great sorrow at any pain he may have caused innocent animals and has no wishes to start a fur trading company FYI!) Sue grew up with her sister Fran Fran. Sue was always a little more...unique than Fran and had an affinity toward redneck things. Fran Fran grew up a classy gal, but had an edgy side. She liked guns. Shawn grew up in So. Cal and Park City. He didn't listen to country music, but he can act as redneck as any of the previous three mentioned.

On the bright early Monday morning of about 1 pm, our fearless group set out in a redneck bronco with over 350,000 miles, listening to Garth Brooks' "Friends in Low Places" to the exotic land known as the west side of Utah Lake. The travelled for a long time (about 20 min) over pavement, past stop lights, over bumps, through snow, and finally parked in the middle of nowhere where they was little chance of people getting hurt, and no chance of receiving help if they got hurt!

They loaded the guns...

They set up targets, also known as their little city...

They posed for the camera...

And then they destroyed the city with 22 rifles and 9ml pistols!

Other activities followed this destruction of course. Fran freaking pulled out some mad skills when she took a 9 ml in gangsta mode and shot a 2 inch wide pull for about 20 feet back. BAM! Yep, that's my sister! Sadly the camera was in the car when this happened and there is no material evidence. However, all who witnessed it will attest to it's actuality and skill!

However, before Fran had a chance to show off her gangsta moves, the foursome decided it was time to shoot down some pigeons. (Clay only. Remember how we are animal friendly now?) So we loaded up the flinger (now that is a redneck term, flinger! Almost as great as saying most smartest) and flung some clay. After a while the group decided that the flinger was not flinging far enough. Matters had to be taken into their own hands. So they pulled out the manual flinger.

Each took turns shattering clay pigeons with the shot gun. Finally it was Kevin's turn to shoot. Sue offered to do the flinging. She got one or two really good launches. However, all good things must come to an end. On her third launch she was standing about three feet away from Kevin. Instead of releasing the pigeon by flicking her wrist when it reached the desired 90 degree angle, she allowed the momentum to continue till her arm was almost parallel to her body. The clay pigeon had no choice but to free itself from the bonds of the manual flinger and shatter itself on Kevin. Where was the point of impact that the pigeon decided to settle on? Was it Kevin's shoulder? No. What it the barrel of Kevin's gun? No. What its Kevin's face...over his right eye to be exact? Yes...yes it was. Kevin tired to laugh the pain off as his head started to bleed, a bruise formed under his eye, his eye started to weep, and a huge purple goose egg started to form on the bridge of his nose. Francine and Shawn almost peed their pants laughing, and Sue died from shame and was laid to rest under the ice of Utah Lake where she will never fling another clay pigeon.

The End