Johnny Got His Gun.1
New member
Got two of them:
(1) Twelve years old. A poor attempt at gunsmithing turned great. I had one of those Daisy pump-up BB/.177 pellet guns. I sawed it off right to the hinge of the pump, took off the front sight cover, and replaced it on the end of the new, improved barrel. I could put some extra BBs in the barrel for a scattergun effect and tear a beer can to pieces. That said, I got much power and excellent range on the pellets. One day, I was down the dirt road at a pond with high clay hills. A squirrel was thirty yards away from me in a tree at the bank of the pond. Had the gun pumped up waaaay too many times (foolish, I know, but I was twelve. Put a pellet in it. Drew down on Mr. Squirrel. Had to fish him out of the pond, and when I got there, he was twitching reflexively, blood coming out of the wound in his head.
(2) Same gun, but just the barrel. I wore that Daisy out (no pun intended). The barrel was only about a foot and a half long, so I kept it and tossed the rest of it. I took some old shoe laces and cut of the widget-things on the ends, leaving just enough of the original shoe lace as trailer fluff. Raided my mama's sewing basket and put needles in the respective widget-things. Improvised darts. I went to an abandoned house. There was a pitiful looking sofa on the porch, and I saw a sparrow on it. I carefully loaded my dart into my barrel, took a deep breath, aimed, exhaled sharply, and nailed the sparrow in the head.
I like to call that one my Little Something Special.
(1) Twelve years old. A poor attempt at gunsmithing turned great. I had one of those Daisy pump-up BB/.177 pellet guns. I sawed it off right to the hinge of the pump, took off the front sight cover, and replaced it on the end of the new, improved barrel. I could put some extra BBs in the barrel for a scattergun effect and tear a beer can to pieces. That said, I got much power and excellent range on the pellets. One day, I was down the dirt road at a pond with high clay hills. A squirrel was thirty yards away from me in a tree at the bank of the pond. Had the gun pumped up waaaay too many times (foolish, I know, but I was twelve. Put a pellet in it. Drew down on Mr. Squirrel. Had to fish him out of the pond, and when I got there, he was twitching reflexively, blood coming out of the wound in his head.
(2) Same gun, but just the barrel. I wore that Daisy out (no pun intended). The barrel was only about a foot and a half long, so I kept it and tossed the rest of it. I took some old shoe laces and cut of the widget-things on the ends, leaving just enough of the original shoe lace as trailer fluff. Raided my mama's sewing basket and put needles in the respective widget-things. Improvised darts. I went to an abandoned house. There was a pitiful looking sofa on the porch, and I saw a sparrow on it. I carefully loaded my dart into my barrel, took a deep breath, aimed, exhaled sharply, and nailed the sparrow in the head.
I like to call that one my Little Something Special.