I am a very dangerous gent. I did learn to shoot with an air rifle but became bored soon. I wanted real action.
A BSA .22 rifle with a Martini Henry-type action was only a consolation, used somewhat expertly to kill off paper circles at twenty five yards. It does require a fair level of skill to hit a tiny bull’s eye time after time. Rapid fire was my coup de grace.
Of course, some guns are designed for people who cannot aim and shoot properly. It has a “to whom it may concern” kind of payload that doesn’t discriminate. I went shooting with these on a farm a few times, but saw no challenge to it. So I filed it in a safe.
From marriages to shooting, I avoid shotgun affairs.
My favourite was my old British Lee Enfield Mark IV .303″ which a gunsmith at Youngsfield military base converted for me into a heavy 29″ barrel of 7,62mm calibre. Its accuracy was via a precise Parker Hale peep sight. This rifle stood me well. I killed off herds of paper bulls with remarkable accuracy. It was a firearm, precision made, for precision shooting. It won me medals over anything between three hundred to a thousand yards. Every wood-and-paper target branded me as a serial killer.
So, when I entered our shopping precinct the other day, I scared the wits out of a female security guard. Despite her fairly dark complexion, I thought she looked a tad pale when she confronted me. One doesn’t argue, after all, with someone holding a dog on a leash, or something that can shoot.
Shooting is what people do at this place. Twenty four million people come to do it here, annually. Even the KKK arrive in droves, wearing their shades, shooting on sight. Point. Aim. Shoot.
My weapon, this time, was a beastly 77mm calibre with a barrel that extends from seventy to three hundred millimetres. Such a thing could scare a lady, I must admit. And it apparently did. I was told not to expose or use it in public. A primeval hunter cut to size.
A Canon with a long barrel is a scary thing. Google it, it is called an EOS 700D. Or T5i if you call some metal “aloominnum.”
The KKK may shoot. The Klik-Klik-Klan arriving in Hilton Ross buses, or other big adventurer coaches aptly named MarcoPolo.
One can have a field day with the equivalent of a handgun, maybe a Nokia with some fifty megapixels. Or a Sony Experia ZA with twenty four. My freshman tool sports only eighteen but is considered lethal.
Twenty four million shoot. They shoot landscapes and they shoot portraits. They shoot at themselves while pouting daftly. The Selfie Pout was the face of 2016 and no selfie sticks could prevent that stupid look.
Shoot at our mall if you wish, but don’t extend protrusions in public. It does cause offense.
Visit www.waterfront.co.za to view a gallery of successful kills. I presume these were drawn with crayons.
Don’t shoot. It’s only me!