So...on to things I heard yesterday:
From the gunsmith: "How's this go back together again?"
Discussion about customers who come in to buy a gun for protection:
"I want a gun for protection"
"Great, what are you looking for?"
"I don't know. Something cheap."
"Yeah, couple hundred dollars."
"Really? Your life is only worth $200?" Yeah, that's what we want to say, but that's not what we're allowed to say. Dang it.
Of course, the 'cheap' guns keep us in business with all of the repairs they require.
And, just for fun, a little story about one of my defensive pistol matches.
We shooters are always looking for new "scenarios" to try out in our defensive pistol matches and some of them are rather creative, like the time the bad guys attacked while we were in a simulated toilet with our pants around our ankles. The designers of that stage actually brought boxers for "realism". But that's not the story I'm gonna tell today.
A few years ago, Tom Cruise made a movie named Collateral. A gun lover's wet dream. Wouldn't you know it, the match following the release of the movie of course had a scene from the movie we were to replicate.
This is the scene from the movie:
It's a "fast rock draw" followed by a classic Mozambique (two to the chest, one to the head). In a fast rock, you draw one-handed and shoot from the hip. No problem.
My turn at the line, I get ready.
The buzzer goes off.
My right hand goes to the gun and I draw, clicking off the safety. At this time, I hadn't been shooting my .45 very long, and didn't have a whole lot of rounds through it single-handed, so I brace my wrist against my ribs.
I press the trigger, feel a "whap" - like someone had just driven my nipple through my spine - hold my breath, press the trigger a second time and transition to the Mozambique. After I finish the stage, I clear my weapon, re-holster and finally let my breath out.
When I look down, I find a perfect outline of my rear sight on my shirt.
Yeah, being the dumbshit I was, when I braced my wrist against my ribs, I didn't give any thought to the twins being in the way. When the slide moved back, it whacked the ever-lovin' shit out of me. I had the presence of mind to move the gun away from my side before I shot my second round, but it wasn't until after the stage was done that I realized what had hit me.
Sadly, that was the first stage of the day, so I spent the rest of the day moving stage to stage with my gunpowder tattoo on my right boob.