When I was ten, I got two things I dearly wanted – a BB gun and a pet hamster. I kept the hamster in a cage at the foot of my bed. After a while, I bought a girlfriend for him. But they started to copulate and so we decided to move the cage down into the basement. That’s where I had my BB gun range.
At the range I shot baseball cards, toy soldiers and newspaper pictures of famous people I didn’t like. I remember shooting Francis Gary Powers completely to shit. He was the guy in the spy plane who told everything. How the hell were we supposed to beat the Russians with finks like that? As I fired away at the few remaining shreds of his gray forehead, I thought vindictively of Benedict Arnold, righteously of Nathan Hale.
I also enjoyed shooting that traitor de Gaulle and photos of all bald people in general. The shiny domes made keen targets. (more…)