I went hunting for the first time with my Grandpa. He let me borrow his old side-by-side, the kind with the exposed hammers and two triggers. I was about 8 or so, and feeling pretty good about myself. You remember the feeling, you're out hunting, you get to carry a gun, you know what I'm talking about. Well, we get out into the woods, a nice walnut grove, lots of squirrels. We see a tree that has 3 or 4 good ones on a low branch, so Gramps tells me to go up on ahead so I can get the first shot. He'd told me to just cock the right barrel, and then if I needed it I could cock the left for a follow up shot. You guessed it, I cocked both of them. I guess the squirrels saw me coming or something, but they started to run around to the back side of the tree. I get the gun up to about 2 inches from my shoulder and pull both triggers. Next thing I know I'm on my butt looking up at Gramps, who is trying very hard to look concerned, but I can tell he was trying not to start rolling around on the ground laughing. I'm surprised I don't still have the bruise.
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"The best we can hope for concerning the people at large is that they be properly armed." -Alexander Hamilton, The Federalist Papers at 184-8.