Post by x101airborne on Feb 8, 2024 5:48:30 GMT -5
My Dad has a hard time getting around. Hard for him to walk anymore but we still ride the ranch in the John Deere Gators. It is good to get him out of the house and give him a proper opportunity to evaluate the ranch, the cattle, tell me every-stinking-thing I am doing wrong in my life; you know, Dad Time.
Yesterday about 200 yards from his house we went across a drainage crossing leading into a large stock tank. On my side was about a 12 or so pound Mud Slider turtle. This was a BIG turtle that was probably going somewhere to lay eggs. Dad says they eat his Sunfish eggs so we "crop" a few every now and then.
Yesterday I was carrying one of my favorites, a plain stock Ruger Super Blackhawk 44 Magnum 7.5 inch barrel loaded with 240 grain jacketed hollow points and a top book charge of Win-296. This is accurate enough to head shoot Armadillos at 50 yards so I really enjoy it.
One problem and as the character in Pulp Fiction "Vincent" says... "Better shoulda known better."; we had a stiff South Wind. Of course this was the wind straight from the turtle to me. Dad stops the Gator and says "Shoot that _____ ______ ______ ______ thing.". I will let you fill in the blanks with colorful language. Dad is not one to mince words.
With all the courage of Davy Crockett and the penach for BS of Mark Twain, I sighted in on my quarry from a distance of around 10 feet. Carefully aimed at her center and broke the trigger. She just disappeared! I was stunned! Where did she go? Uh-huh. Then it hit me. Literally.
I had turned that turtle into pink mist that I am absolutely sure God sent 99% of it to the South, then back to the North onto Dad and I. I was glad I was the one still holding the gun because if Dad had been, yall would be a couple orders of powder coat short.
All over me, Dad, my firearm, the Gator, EVERYTHING smelled like rotten fish and was covered in a pink watery goo. BTW, I feel it important here to publicly state I did not go looking for the bullet to see if it expanded. I slowly turned to look at dad who I believe was looking feverishly for his Buck 110 to carve out a chunk of my liver. Dad didn't say a word and neither did I. I was thinking a few, but I didn't say them. Back to the house we went. Not a word spoken between us except "Goodbye".
Now here is where the stupid stuff REALLY starts in. I stripped outside and did my best to wash my head and hands. I gathered my clothes, put my snake boots on their rack and went inside for a shower. First stop, the laundry. My son had left his school clothes in the washer from the day before and they needed to be rewashed. I put my clothes down, restarted the washer and went to shower.
I was lamenting what I could have done better while rubbing Head and Shoulders directly into my eyeballs when the door flys open and the shower curtain gets ripped back like a paper towel. In my blind, naked stupor, I had no idea my WIFE was going to come home a little early from work at the hospital. She likes a clean(ish) house and I like her not sleeping on the couch too much so I try to make her happy. In a pitch and volume that the US Navy could use to repel boarders on a Cruise Missile Destroyer my wife proceeds to let me have both barrels of what she thought of the smell in the house, bathroom and all over her prized Egyptian Cotton towels; that I bought her. (Did I mention I forgot to turn on the vent fan for the shower steam? Seems pretty important now.)
Blind, naked, soapy and left with no dignity what so ever I stood there still scared to open my eyes. I dont know if I had already resigned myself to an instant death or if I was hoping it would actually happen, but there I stood. SILENT. Without a word while she was still talking I rinsed off, grabbed one of her perfect cotton towels and started to dry off. Only words out of my mouth in 10 minutes were "Yes Love, you are RIGHT."
Robert Rourke can kiss me where the sun dont shine. "Use enough gun." Well, that sure as hell did it. It was enough gun alright. Then again, maybe that is why dumbasses shouldn't go to Africa.
Yesterday about 200 yards from his house we went across a drainage crossing leading into a large stock tank. On my side was about a 12 or so pound Mud Slider turtle. This was a BIG turtle that was probably going somewhere to lay eggs. Dad says they eat his Sunfish eggs so we "crop" a few every now and then.
Yesterday I was carrying one of my favorites, a plain stock Ruger Super Blackhawk 44 Magnum 7.5 inch barrel loaded with 240 grain jacketed hollow points and a top book charge of Win-296. This is accurate enough to head shoot Armadillos at 50 yards so I really enjoy it.
One problem and as the character in Pulp Fiction "Vincent" says... "Better shoulda known better."; we had a stiff South Wind. Of course this was the wind straight from the turtle to me. Dad stops the Gator and says "Shoot that _____ ______ ______ ______ thing.". I will let you fill in the blanks with colorful language. Dad is not one to mince words.
With all the courage of Davy Crockett and the penach for BS of Mark Twain, I sighted in on my quarry from a distance of around 10 feet. Carefully aimed at her center and broke the trigger. She just disappeared! I was stunned! Where did she go? Uh-huh. Then it hit me. Literally.
I had turned that turtle into pink mist that I am absolutely sure God sent 99% of it to the South, then back to the North onto Dad and I. I was glad I was the one still holding the gun because if Dad had been, yall would be a couple orders of powder coat short.
All over me, Dad, my firearm, the Gator, EVERYTHING smelled like rotten fish and was covered in a pink watery goo. BTW, I feel it important here to publicly state I did not go looking for the bullet to see if it expanded. I slowly turned to look at dad who I believe was looking feverishly for his Buck 110 to carve out a chunk of my liver. Dad didn't say a word and neither did I. I was thinking a few, but I didn't say them. Back to the house we went. Not a word spoken between us except "Goodbye".
Now here is where the stupid stuff REALLY starts in. I stripped outside and did my best to wash my head and hands. I gathered my clothes, put my snake boots on their rack and went inside for a shower. First stop, the laundry. My son had left his school clothes in the washer from the day before and they needed to be rewashed. I put my clothes down, restarted the washer and went to shower.
I was lamenting what I could have done better while rubbing Head and Shoulders directly into my eyeballs when the door flys open and the shower curtain gets ripped back like a paper towel. In my blind, naked stupor, I had no idea my WIFE was going to come home a little early from work at the hospital. She likes a clean(ish) house and I like her not sleeping on the couch too much so I try to make her happy. In a pitch and volume that the US Navy could use to repel boarders on a Cruise Missile Destroyer my wife proceeds to let me have both barrels of what she thought of the smell in the house, bathroom and all over her prized Egyptian Cotton towels; that I bought her. (Did I mention I forgot to turn on the vent fan for the shower steam? Seems pretty important now.)
Blind, naked, soapy and left with no dignity what so ever I stood there still scared to open my eyes. I dont know if I had already resigned myself to an instant death or if I was hoping it would actually happen, but there I stood. SILENT. Without a word while she was still talking I rinsed off, grabbed one of her perfect cotton towels and started to dry off. Only words out of my mouth in 10 minutes were "Yes Love, you are RIGHT."
Robert Rourke can kiss me where the sun dont shine. "Use enough gun." Well, that sure as hell did it. It was enough gun alright. Then again, maybe that is why dumbasses shouldn't go to Africa.
