November 14, 2005

I had a blast, literally.

Graumagus has been whining and complaining about not being able to go shooting for a while now. Just to shut him up our blogless buddy Jay and myself told him we’d go shooting. His crying was really starting to get on my nerves. The man can be such a woman at times. It had nothing to do with the fact that both Jay and I wanted to slay paper targets, really. We hate shooting. We didn’t want to go at all. We went just because we were his friends, and to here him giggle in glee when we said yes was well worth it. Really, would I lie to you? Don’t answer that.

Due to the length of this post, I put the rest in the extended entry.

First Grau tells me to meet him at his father’s house between 9 and 10 in the morning. When I pick up Jay, he tells me that Grau told him not to get there before 10. See, just like a woman, he couldn’t make up his mind. Since I picked Jay up at the crack of 9:00 AM, we had some time to kill. Yea, I wasn’t itching to go shooting. Deciding that we were hungry, we stopped at a restaurant to get breakfast. After we had sat down Jay points out how “redneck” we look. Now I’ll take Jay’s word on this, he is from Missouri (pronounced Miz-zur-a). Being the glutton for punishment that I am, I had to ask him how he came to that conclusion. At which point he points out that we both are wearing flannels, dirty jeans, boots, dirty baseball caps, grimy coats and pulled into the restaurant in a big truck filled with firearms.

You cannot argue that logic.

After breakfast, we meet Grau at his dad’s house. Before we go any further in this tale of humiliation, let me explain that I dig Grau’s dad with big shovels. I’m glad he’s not my father, but for the humor factor, he is a great man. The man believed that I worked for the FBI for years; in fact, he may still believe that. That is why I found it so humorous that he was worried that all the guns were going to be taken by the feds because they were unregistered. You don’t need to register your firearms; Illinois isn’t that strict… yet. Grau and I, in a futile effort, tried to convince him that they didn’t need to be. He was still worried about it, so this is where I pulled my trump card. I told him, “Don’t worry, I have friends in the government still.” I don’t know if he knew I was joking with him or if he believed me, but that was the last we heard about it. When asked what we were going to do with “all these guns”. Grau said we were just doing some target practice. At which point Jay smarts off, “Wait, I thought we were going to annex Canada into Wisconsin!”

As soon as we left, Grau tells me he needs to hit a bank and we needed to get more ammo. Can you really have too much ammo? Don’t answer that, the answer will come to you later in this story. We stop by the local Farm and Fleet. (Yea I know… flannels, firearms, truck and at the fleet.) I tried to convince Grau and Jay we needed more ammo for their guns, but NOOOooooo, we had more then enough. Grau only picked up a box of 25 .44s and a box of 20 .30-30’s. Jay said he had 50 rounds for his .380 and that was enough. Me? I bought an extra 200 rounds of .22. Jay also decided that he didn’t need the big earmuff hearing protection, he would just use the foam inserts. This is a decision that I am sure still haunts him today. While there Grau decided that he needed to get a hat to fit in. What does he decide to buy? A tree camo John Deer hat. Our transformation to the red side is almost complete.

Upon checking out, some older anti-gun hippy chic was working the check out. She wanted to know what we were doing with all the gun “paraphernalia” (They’re bullets lady…). She then told us not to shoot anyone. What the hell?!?!?! I couldn’t help myself when I smarted off, “That takes all the fun out of it.” After we left, Grau told me I should have said, “But they make better responsive targets!”

Next, we had to head to Grau’s bank. He told me that it was on 173. Since Grau lives out in “middle of nowhere” Illinois, I figured that he meant it was off 173 out in his neck of the woods. Thus, I started to head that way. After I’ve already gone the wrong direction he spouts off, “Wait, my bank is the other way.” Did I mention he could be such a girl at times? His waiting until after you are heading the wrong way to tell you such. Apparently, I need to read his mind as well, like a woman. So after going 12 miles out of my way, that’s a whole gallon of gas in my truck, we get to his bank. Now he can’t go through the ATM… no, he has to go in. Flash forward 30 minutes, he finally comes walking out of the bank. Now he tells me I need to take him to Steak and Shake because he’s hungry. At least he can make up his mind when we get there as to what he wants. I was worried that he’d again be a woman and spend 20 minutes deciding whether or not he wanted ketchup on his burger.

Finally, we are on our way. Grau asks if our weapon’s are in cases. I confirm that mine is, Jay pulls out a Crown Royal bag and says, “Yep!” I laughed so hard I almost crashed the truck. There is just something inherently redneck about using a Crown Royal bag as a gun case, leave it to the guy from Missouri to do that.

Upon getting to the range, we hopped out, signed in, and found three spots to shoot. Man did we have fun. The range was nice too. What really impressed me was that the gun club let a local Boy Scout troop set up and sell things like chips, hot dogs, chili, etc. My being a sucker for helping Boy Scouts, I ended up buying a chilidog. It was a nice facility; it even had all weather sections to shoot. We then spent the next 2 hours shooting the following firearms.

Grau’s .44 magnum. This is a big, loud handgun. It kicks, as Grau's said, “Like a rodeo bull with a hornets nest up its arse.” The first ten rounds I put through it, I hated the thing. The second time I tried it, I put 15 rounds through it and it wasn’t as bad. It’s fun to fire, but I doubt I’d ever buy one. Shooting this isn’t as bad as standing next to someone shooting it. Today it looks like I’m freckled really badly on the left side of my face from the powder burns. Grau was to my left and every time he would pull the trigger on that beast, I’d be showered with sparks and burning powder. In addition, it is loud. Jay and some of the other guys that didn’t have good hearing protection are probably still deaf today. The whole way home Jay kept yelling at us when he was talking, he couldn’t tell how loud he was being.

Grau’s .45 Colt 1991. I loved this handgun. Great action, balance, accuracy, it was just a pleasure to shoot. It didn’t kick very hard. I put probably a good 70 of the 150 .45 rounds we brought with down range. We tried to buy some more, but the range was out. That may have been a good thing because I may have bought 200 rounds and made them stay to watch me shoot it. I don’t think Grau realizes how close he came to “losing” that handgun in my truck. There is a good chance I may be adding one of these to my collection in the future.

Grau’s .30-30. This was a nice rifle. The more I shot it, the more I liked it. It wasn’t an instant love affair like the .45 was, but I wouldn’t mind owning one. I think he screwed up the sites on it though; it seemed to be aiming high.

Jay’s .380. I really thought I would hate this thing. It looked like a toy pistol and I haven’t heard a lot of good things about .380s. To my surprise, I actually thought this was a nice little pistol. It didn’t kick; it was light and easy to shoot. I’m thinking that it may be the type of handgun I buy Ktreva when I get her to start shooting.

My .22 Long Rifle. I have a .22 pump action Winchester model 62A in good condition. It was made in 1951 and my father bought it from a farmer in a bar for $20.00 back in the 50’s. It was a fun rifle to shoot. I shot a good cluster with it. The sites must be off, as it seems to aim a little high as well. The funny thing about shooting this gun was the reaction Grau, Jay and I all had when we first fired it. Every one of us thought to ourselves, “Did it shoot?” No kick, no sound, no smoke, we all thought our first couple of rounds were duds. Nope… it’s just a .22LR.

The funniest thing that happened at the range was when I caught some hot brass in the collar of my coat. I had been firing the .45 and they called a cease-fire. One of the shells must have landed on top of my hat, because when I pulled my hearing protection off the casing fell down the back of my coat. Of course, Grau and Jay laughed their arses off as I did the, “GOD THAT’S HOT” dance.

We ended up leaving because we RAN OUT OF AMMO! Well not all of us, I still have 150 rounds of .22 left. I told them they should buy more ammo, I told them. But does anyone listen to me? No! So to answer my earlier question; No, you can never have too much ammo!

After shooting, we stopped at this local bar called Vaj’s Garage. We thought the food was a little pricey… until they delivered it. Good mother of jebus, they don’t use plates, they use platters! The Chili fries were excellent. And for you counting, yes that is the second time that day I had Chili. WHEN we go back, this will be a definite stop afterwards at “The Vaj”. Good food, atmosphere and beer. If they only had nekked Swedish serving girls.

On the way back, it’s about an hour and 15 minute trip, we stopped to get something to drink and use the restroom.. Damn beer. About 15 minutes later, we had this conversation.

Grau, “Hey, stop at the mobile up the street. I’m sorry”

Contagion, “Why?” (Smell hits me) “Good lord! You Mother Farker! *Gag*” (rolls down windows)

Grau, “I have to go to the bathroom.”

Contagion, “We are only 6 blocks from your dad’s, you can hold it.”

Grau, “No I can’t, either stop or you’ll need to have your seats re upholstered.”

Contagion, “Are you telling me you went from not having to shit, to near uncontrollable bowels in less then 15 minutes?!?!?”

Grau, “Yes.”

We pull into the gas station and Grau waddles into the bathroom. Jay and I wait in the truck for no less then 10 minutes, but I think it was closer to 20. Remember Grau can be such a girl. The next thing Jay and I know people are running out of the gas station. One poor individual runs to a pump and starts to hose themselves with Gas. Jay figures the smell was so bad that they would do anything to get it out of their noses. Seeing this, I have the truck started and ready to roll when Grau comes out. He has a smile you only see on a guys face after a good hour of… well you know… ecstasy. We tore out of the gas station before it exploded.

We all had a great time and are already talking about going back in a couple of weeks. Maybe a little “Christmas/Thanksgiving” shoot or something. Next time I’ll have my .357, as I picked it up today.

Go see Grau's version here.

Posted by Contagion in Stories about me. at November 14, 2005 01:07 PM | TrackBack

My "I'm a Beeyotch" cackle could be heard down the hall. Everyone is probably wondering what the hell is wrong with me. My friend, you have an interesting way with words!

Posted by: oddybobo at November 14, 2005 04:15 PM

Grau acting like a girl????

Well, he sure has the tits for it.

*snickers and ducks*

Posted by: Anathematized1 at November 14, 2005 05:40 PM

Once AGAIN you made me spit.....gun case, "crown bag" if that ain't funny, I don't know what is.....

this was supper discussion tonight.....

Posted by: armywifetoddlermom at November 14, 2005 11:41 PM

Heh - I know all about Missouri rednecks... slightly cleaner than hillbillies although it sounds like Grau was headed for hillbilly territory. *grin*

Sounds like it was great fun. Oddly enough... unlike Chicago - there seem to be any number of firearms shops here in the great Massachusetts collective. I think I need to check them out.

Posted by: Teresa at November 15, 2005 12:23 AM

A .380 for Ktreva probably would be a good choice - my husband has one, and thought I'd like it, and it's nice enough, but I'm still nagging him to buy me a .357.

Posted by: Jenna at November 15, 2005 11:38 AM