Monday, April 10, 2017

Drive - A Memoir 91st Installment

were making great time; by noon we had passed the stupid mud hole that contained our fish hooks and we kept on trucking. By now I felt so hungry, I thought to assist the belt in my jeans, I might need a belt for my underwear. Later in the evening, just as it was getting dark we trotted into the yard at Tommy’s house and busted through the door straight to the kitchen for food. Tearing open every bag and jar shoving the food down our gullets. I was eating bologna so fast I think I ate part of the wrapper and without spitting it out I swallowed the plastic and figured it would pass. Heh. Heh.

Chapter 23
Saturday was a normal work day, and Victor has to hang around the house with the girls. Sunday, after chores, we had a chance to go hunting, and Victor was glad to go. We found him some old work boots that fit, and he did have jeans and a shirt (button down) – fancy for hunting, but if he didn’t care, we didn’t either. This was the first time we had several hours between chores, and we decided to go far into the desert. Our goal was an area of natural tall grass and short brush that was usually very populated with jack rabbits. We thought first, that the grass grew this way because the water table was so close, or second, maybe it was an ancient lake bed, and third, we thought, who cared about geology as long as there was a plethora of jack rabbits. This botanical oasis was about four miles beyond our west fence and three miles short of the highway between Sage Junction and Terreton. 
How many shells did you bring, Russ?” I asked. He had brought the ‘The Matchmaster’ rifle.

A 50 box of long rifle hollows,” Russ said. “I’m going for a 50/50!”

No fair, you have the most accurate gun,” I whined. The Matchmaster had a scope, the longer barrel, and the fastest long rifle shells. I had the old Remington semi-automatic with a box of shorts.”

Haw haw, with age you get the right to take advantage,” Russ crowed.

I have no idea what that crazy looking old gun Victor brought with him would even shoot let alone be accurate. The gun looked old enough, that I asked Victor, “Do you load it by pouring in gun powder, dropping a ball down the barrel, and ramming it home?” 
Don’t diss my gun!” Victor spoke for the first time. “It’s a Winchester Model 68, aperture rear sight, with a 27 inch barrel.”

Whoopee do, a ‘single shot’ bolt action.” I smirked. 
What is this 50/50 you guys are playing?” Victor asked, ignoring me.

Russ, the leader of the competition at 49/50 spoke quickly, “It’s when you kill 50 jackrabbits out of a box of 50 shells, and I have the record

500 more words tomorrow

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