05-14-2009, 03:35 PM
When I was about five years old, my grand step grandfather still owned a dairy farm but it was more of a traditional farm in that he also had a chicken coup with a bunch of chickens, five or six horses, one very mean goose, and a couple of dozen medium sized and full grown pigs.
One day, about a dozen of his pigs got loose. They tried for hours to get the pigs back in to the pig pen, but to no avail, the pigs refused to go back in because they were having too much fun munching on the corn in the corn feild located behind the barn. So the decision was made to put the pigs down because it was getting dark and the pigs would have become a danger to the community had they been allowed to roam free.
Out came a hunting rifle and the pigs became target practice. Being very young, and in an exciting situation, I thought all the grown ups were having fun and I wanted in on it so I asked my dad if I could get a turn. He looked at me, furrowed his brow and handed me the rifle. He had set up shop on a bale of hay so when he moved out of the way, I did the same.
I sighted down the barrel of the rifle and put a bead on one of the pigs with my dad giving me tips on how to handle the rifle. As I began to apply pressure to the trigger, it was then I realized I was about to take a life, and a tear appeared on my cheek. Soon there was a flood of tears and I left the rifle on the bale of hay and ran to my grand mothers bedroom and hid under her bed. Each time the gun went off I flinched. I counted ten more shots. Brutal.
One day, about a dozen of his pigs got loose. They tried for hours to get the pigs back in to the pig pen, but to no avail, the pigs refused to go back in because they were having too much fun munching on the corn in the corn feild located behind the barn. So the decision was made to put the pigs down because it was getting dark and the pigs would have become a danger to the community had they been allowed to roam free.
Out came a hunting rifle and the pigs became target practice. Being very young, and in an exciting situation, I thought all the grown ups were having fun and I wanted in on it so I asked my dad if I could get a turn. He looked at me, furrowed his brow and handed me the rifle. He had set up shop on a bale of hay so when he moved out of the way, I did the same.
I sighted down the barrel of the rifle and put a bead on one of the pigs with my dad giving me tips on how to handle the rifle. As I began to apply pressure to the trigger, it was then I realized I was about to take a life, and a tear appeared on my cheek. Soon there was a flood of tears and I left the rifle on the bale of hay and ran to my grand mothers bedroom and hid under her bed. Each time the gun went off I flinched. I counted ten more shots. Brutal.
"Sir, You need to get out of your car, there is a train comming."
"Why ummm... uhhh did you ummm... feel the need to errrrr, god why can't I type!!"
"Why ummm... uhhh did you ummm... feel the need to errrrr, god why can't I type!!"