(continued)
Once outside, I placed the can in an upright position on the ground, then positioned myself about 15 feet from the can.
From watching my brother use his BB gun, I knew how to operate it. By pointing the gun at the ground, then pointing it at the sky, the BB's would make a sound as they rolled from one end of the magazine tube to the other. This sound would tell you the approximate number of BB's in the gun.
Having determined there were only a few BB's in the magazine tube, I then tried to "cock" the gun. But much to my dismay, I wasn't strong enough to accomplish it the way my brother does.
It looked easy when my brother did it. He just grabbed the barrel of the gun with his left hand, put his four fingers through the cocking mechanism, pulled the mechanism outward from the gun until it came to a stop and emitted a clicking sound, then returned the mechanism to it's normal position. It was then ready to fire
I tried, and tried, but to no avail. I just wasn't strong enough.
If, somehow I could use both hands...then a thought struck my conscious! I could lay the gun on the ground, with the barrel side touching, and parallel to the ground.
Then, if I sat on the magazine side of the barrel and used my feet to hold the stock down, I could use both hands to pull on the lever and cock the gun.
Amazingly enough, it worked! I was now ready to fire the BB gun.
Bristling with pride at my resourcefulness, I aimed the gun at the can and pulled the trigger.
A puff of dust to the right and above the can informed me of the miss. Determined, I again cocked the gun, aimed, squeezed the trigger and a puff of dirt to the right and low, again told me I had missed the can.
Several more times, I repeated the above sequence. Each time carefully lowering the barrel and raising it again to verify there were more BB's in the magazine.
After a few shots, maybe 8 or 10, I could hear no sound of available BB's in the gun. But, I cocked the gun anyway.
And, because there were no more BB's in the gun, I casually put the barrel of the gun on top of my foot and pulled the trigger.
I'm sure, if I could remember it, I had incurred more pain during my birth procedure, than from that stealth BB which hit the base of the toenail on my right foot on that fateful day. The pain was nearly unbearable for a few seconds.
It was far and away the worst pain I can remember suffering during all of my 5 years on this earth.
I wanted to shout in pain! I wanted to cry! But I had learned from the men in my family, that men and boys don't cry. Girls and women cry. Men and boys don't cry.
Even though no one was around, I managed to stifle the urge to cry. Though a few tears were ambling down my cheeks, I uttered not a sound. I was proud I didn't cry. I must be growing up, I thought.
I learned an important gun safety lesson that day, and it has been with me ever since.
Next...First Grade of School
My first post
My second post
My Life Begins - I Almost Killed My Mother!! #1
My Life - Neighbor & Tomato Plants #2
My Life - A Boy and a BB Gun #3