Velociworld

Dude, Where's My Ammo?

Zonker and I went a-shooting today at the farm. I showed him the Daniel Boone rock and everything. We're almost lavalier now. Look at this shit, though:

I know what you're thinking. That's pretty sloppy fieldcraft, there, Velociputz. Four handguns and a rifle splayed in cavalier fashion, ammo spilled everywhere, holsters akimbo, an ancient quilt from my childhood with a very questionable smell, beer. What the fuck?

I admit, it looks like sloppy fieldcraft. But there was a method here. This layout was exactly as planned, down to the cheap vodka in the water bottles.

Whoever said guns and booze don't mix is a pussy. They go together like a horse and carriage. Like Kwame Kilpatrick and a Drano'd whore. Like John Edwards and Rielle Lisa Druck Hunter's skaggy cunt. No, this wasn't sloppy fieldcraft.

Neither was this:

That was my weak eye and left hand with the .357 from 7 yards, after we'd pounded the .45's for an hour or so. It's all about steady hands, and nerves. And booze. And being alone in the woods with Zonker. That's what makes it so special.

Anyway, we agreed to meet up again in a couple of weeks. We want to see if the Winchester's pregnant. Zonker worked it purty hard. My hat's off to the lad.