Thursday, August 18, 2011

VB 1950


Oh, there's my dad.

He used to take me shooting when I was a kid. I never found the pleasure in it. It was boring. I preferred exploring the nearby desert.

Once, I came home to find a child-sized rifle leaning against the wall in my bedroom. "For you!" *nudge* "Eh? Eh??" Big smile.

There was no room in my life for a tiny rifle. I lived and played (did I mention? I was 9) around it until it finally disappeared.

Sorry, dad.

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