Keep Shootin’

campfire tales

Whatever It Takes

The Old Man had been shooting bull’s-eye every Tuesday night for as long as he could remember. Actually longer than that, as before the arrival of Dandy Don, Howard and Frank on Monday Night Football they had been shooting every Monday evening for several years. Time had passed all too quickly; Howard was long gone and Dandy Don had just passed. Time had taken its toll on the Old Man and he now found it difficult, if not impossible, to see the iron sights in the relatively dim lighting of the indoor range. He still came out every Tuesday night just to be with the guys and even brought along his pistol box for old times sake.

Every Tuesday night the same ritual occurred; the other fellows asked the Old Man to come on and shoot and his refrain was always the same, “I can’t see the sights!” This went on every Tuesday night for at least six months and they finally either wore the Old Man down or caught him in a weak moment, or both. He grabbed his pistol box and walked into the range. His box was opened, his pistol laid on the ledge, a target attached and run down to the 25-yard line. Ten rounds were loaded in the High Standard magazine and inserted into his Supermatic Trophy. He assumed the proper stance, at least what was his proper stance, and proceeded to fire 10 rounds rapid fire. He pushed the button to retrieve his target and everyone was astounded to see all 10 rounds in the 10-ring with six X’s. “How did you do that?” “You said you could no longer see the sights?” “How could you possibly shoot a perfect score?”  The old Man never hesitated and said: “Memory boys; memory.”

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