Cutting off your nose to spite your face (Bunker Grandpa)
This is not a very fun post, but it's funny at the heart of it.
Before I get into this, it should be noted that pellet guns are found behind the door of nearly every Midwestern man who lives for "opening day".....
At my parent's home, there is a wooded area extending beyond the back yard. It has become a bit of a nature sanctuary with an abundance of deer, pheasant, native foul, and two rare European doves. As an avid hunter, my Dad has a great appreciation for the aforementioned wildlife, and takes pleasure in observing the habits of these animals. But he does not harbor the same feelings for all of God's creatures. No, my Dad's proudest moments come from shooting the rabbits, squirrels, and blackbirds that dare tread on his hallowed ground. Summer's killings: numerous blackbirds, 6 jackrabbits, and 4 squirrels (one of which he thought for sure was taunting him and called me immediately upon the single shot takedown last week). Whatever keeps the 'ol man happy... and I know every time he calls in a good mood, there's an easy $100 in it for me to weasel out of him.
My Dad (if it wasn't already crystally apparent) is an awesome guy. His Dad (my grandfather), however, is a total assholing prick... but the old mule has his moments. Anyway, killing yard foul is apparently a genetic trait or arrested development. Either way, I'm sure it's only a matter of time before I slap down some stolen plastic for a pellet gun of my own. When my grandpa began loosing his steady hand, the WWII Veteran had a bunker built out of the basement of his house... a fucking bunker. Apparently, being a nut-job is also genetic. Although he and his wife have lots of birdhouses behind their Arkansas home, not all birds are welcome...
Grandfather: "I finally got those God-damned blackbirds; I used my shotgun. "
Dad: "What?! Really??? Didn't it blow the shit out of your birdhouse?"
Grandfather: "Well yeah, but at least I got the little fuckers."
Dad: "I guess." (heavy sarcasm)
Hard to believe it's the bloodline of kings, isn't it?
Before I get into this, it should be noted that pellet guns are found behind the door of nearly every Midwestern man who lives for "opening day".....
At my parent's home, there is a wooded area extending beyond the back yard. It has become a bit of a nature sanctuary with an abundance of deer, pheasant, native foul, and two rare European doves. As an avid hunter, my Dad has a great appreciation for the aforementioned wildlife, and takes pleasure in observing the habits of these animals. But he does not harbor the same feelings for all of God's creatures. No, my Dad's proudest moments come from shooting the rabbits, squirrels, and blackbirds that dare tread on his hallowed ground. Summer's killings: numerous blackbirds, 6 jackrabbits, and 4 squirrels (one of which he thought for sure was taunting him and called me immediately upon the single shot takedown last week). Whatever keeps the 'ol man happy... and I know every time he calls in a good mood, there's an easy $100 in it for me to weasel out of him.
My Dad (if it wasn't already crystally apparent) is an awesome guy. His Dad (my grandfather), however, is a total assholing prick... but the old mule has his moments. Anyway, killing yard foul is apparently a genetic trait or arrested development. Either way, I'm sure it's only a matter of time before I slap down some stolen plastic for a pellet gun of my own. When my grandpa began loosing his steady hand, the WWII Veteran had a bunker built out of the basement of his house... a fucking bunker. Apparently, being a nut-job is also genetic. Although he and his wife have lots of birdhouses behind their Arkansas home, not all birds are welcome...
Grandfather: "I finally got those God-damned blackbirds; I used my shotgun. "
Dad: "What?! Really??? Didn't it blow the shit out of your birdhouse?"
Grandfather: "Well yeah, but at least I got the little fuckers."
Dad: "I guess." (heavy sarcasm)
Hard to believe it's the bloodline of kings, isn't it?
posted by Nicole @ 6:44 PM
5 Comments:
At 9/21/2005 8:18 AM,
Anonymous said…
Is it possible that traits such as this can skip a generation? Point incase…
My Mother: “ Your Father was unsuccessful in his moose hunt, but he did shoot a wolverine.”
Me: “What on earth is he going to do with a wolverine?”
My Mother: “Well, it would be nice to have one on the wall.”
Me: “Well, I suppose.” (profound mockery)
At 9/21/2005 10:22 AM,
Alex said…
I was up in Wisconsin once the day before deer season, and all these guys were going hunting (no one invited me) and I didn't know what you say before people go on a hunt - so I just said, "hope you guys kill a lot out there...". They looked at me like I was nuts - but that's what they were doing. If I had of said "hope you guys have a lot of sex with animals...", now that would be weird.
At 9/21/2005 12:47 PM,
fatrobot said…
blackbirds mean to kill us all
At 9/23/2005 2:12 AM,
Booksville Bookclub said…
Speaking of nuts with guns ... a photographer I used to work with was an avid hunter and gun collector. He loved being at "one" with nature, as long as there was a gun between him and it. But he was so worried about how his kids viewed his hobbies, he wouldn't let his kids watch the movie "Bambi" because it might make the kids hate him. And we think it's easy totin' a gun.
At 9/23/2005 6:35 PM,
The Big Cheese said…
When I was a kid I killed a opposum with a stick. Oh, and a cement block. Well mostly with the cement block.
wait. isn't that a sign of something...shit.
Well got to go. The heads in the freezer need to be set out for dinner.
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