Story of a gun

Thunder echoed across the valley like a shotgun last night. I could feel the vibrations in the floor. Car alarms were going off for a few hours. LB came running out of her room with her hands over her ears saying, “that thunder is freaking me out!”

Before our kid was born, Rooferman used to keep an illegal double-barrelshotgun over our front door. The cabin we were living in was infested with spiders, and while I was tempted to go after the nasty things with buckshot, I didn’t like having a gun in the house. Mostly I didn’t like Rooferman having access to it when he was angry. When the sparks flew, he would grab the gun or he would get behind the wheel; neither were particularly smart choices.

While preparing for our stint in the Big Easy, Rooferman convinced me to purchase a handgun for safety reasons. We had no clue what to expect in post-Katrina Louisiana, but we had seen enough on the news to know that people were shooting looters on site and the atmosphere resembled a snake-infested war zone.

Growing up among hippies, I didn’t even see a gun until we moved to Colorado. HS Sweetheart was preparing for his career as an Army Ranger, and let me look at his artillery. I don’t even remember the type of gun it was, but I regarded with an air of terrified disgust.  

After 2 months with Rooferman, I had shot two handguns, and even some clay pigeons with his illegal shotgun. By the time he had convinced me to buy a .38 Special, I was reasonably comfortable around guns; Comfortable enough to stash one in my glove box, drive cross country and into the land of Marshal law.

We never were confronted with any life-threatening situations. My Fiance and the other construction workers used the gun only to shoot at snakes and alligators, and mostly out of boredom. The .38 Special had a tiny barrel, so the gun was deafening, causing Rooferman to lose his hearing and scream at me to speak up! for days at a time.

After a disastrous turn of evens in Louisiana, the .38 eventually returned home to the pawn shop from whence it came. I used the “broke & pregnant”  story on the manager, collected a surplus of cash and went on my way, not knowing I would be back in less than a year to pawn my engagement ring as well.

Lets just say the gun was a better investment. Kinda like my life as a single mom.

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5 thoughts on “Story of a gun

  1. Once again, you speak volumes in short passages. 🙂 The sound of gunshot (or thunder) causes most of us to stop short and listen. Having never been around guns it’s hard for me to relate, but I do know how it makes our kids feel–scared. Whether it’s a gun you’re ridding yourself of or a ring, remember that the gun and the ring are symbols or instruments of something greater. You can be safe with or without them, depending on how they’re used. Use wisely….

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