My friends call me Annie.
I never cease to amaze myself, for truly I am a woman of many talents. I can boil hotdogs and almost never burn them. I can clean the lint from the dryer using only two hands. And, if the moon is correctly aligned with Nebraska, I can drive and recite the Pledge of Allegiance simultaneously... which as a good American I often do.
Clearly you can see why I find myself so entirely amazing. I am nothing short of a renaissance woman. You may now worship me as a goddess and if you are so inclined, offer me money to purchase my life sized cardboard cut out replica.
But yesterday, a new and completely heretofore unknown natural talent of mine surfaced which produced a certain level of shock and awe among those that were fortunate enough to witness it.
It seems that I am quite a good shot. With a gun, that is. I found myself in a situation that involved a long gun and things that didn't necessarily want to be shot and I simply couldn't help myself. I had an overwhelming desire to put a bullet in them. I attribute my murderous rampage to my low estrogen level. Let that be a warning to anyone that is considering aggravating a menopausal woman.
Gun in hand, I lifted the cold steel to touch my right cheek. I looked down the long barrel and as instructed, I closed my left eye and lined up the sites with the other. My hands trembled slightly as I found my aim and when I was certain I could make the shot, I pulled the trigger.
My target was hit. I was the victorious hunter. I had no idea pulling the trigger of a powerful gun could be so exhilarating! And a kill with my very first shot! Based upon the gasps of those nearby, I'm fairly certain such a hit the first time you pick up a gun is quite rare. I even heard one man mutter that he'd never seen a woman shoot like that.
A tear found it's way down my cheek as I walked slowly to where my fallen prey lie still. I knelt down beside it's lifeless body and offered a prayer to the universe to receive my victim's spirit and to give thanks for a good hunt.
"Excuse me! Ma'am? Ma'am? You are not allowed to jump the counter, Ma'am. And please leave the pink turtle where it is. If you want to shoot it again, you'll have to pay fifty cents like everyone else."
Oh, I'll shoot it again. Right after I remove this tethered rifle from your teenaged behind. I wonder if Annie Oakley got this kind of treatment?
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Copyright © 2004, Sherri Bailey
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