Chapter 3
Enter the zone
My phone quacked at me and a text popped up. (I love duck calls ergo my ring is a Mallard hail call). “You gotta get your ass over here and kill these fing rats” signed JOSE!!! I text Jose back and whine about it being to damn hot can’t we wait till it’s a little cooler.
Hell no !!! Pops back at me. NOW! poop I guess we gotta do it I’m telling myself. God I am not ready for this. Just sold my little walking gun and new gun is not sighted in, cleaned or scoped. Streamline is to long and has monster scope. Double crap.
Called Mike and tell him we are on for Sat night rat killing at the pig farm. “Hot poop diggity dang dog I’m ready” spouts Mike. I tell him I’m not, and whine some more but he blows it off and tells me “We’ll be ready! We’re going!” He senses something eating on me and asks what’s really the matter. “Well if we are completely honest it’s the damn stink! It is so bad I’m pretty sure it would drive and Indian dog off a buffalo gut wagon” Hells bells last time my wife made me strip in the garage and throw my clothes in the garbage. She told me if I ever come in again like that she’s calling the HAZMAT people. The GD cat took one step in and shrieked, did an about face and was gone for 3 days.
OK I got some stuff from work we can put up our noses and we won’t smell anything. Honest we use it all the time around dead bodies. You’ll be fine.
The next evening we get together and get the little P15 ready intending to sight it in when we get there. 8:00PM rolls around and it is dark as we park and get ready. Sight in the little gun at 20 yards because that will be a long shot. Turn our red lights on, stuff some greasy stuff up our noses and head into living cesspool! “What is this nose stuff anyway? I’m kinda dizzy and my eyes are watering.” “Give it 5 minutes and your golden,” says mike.
Now things are happening. Rats rats everywhere and everything did stink as we are carried off into the zone. Shoot, shoot shoot , reload shoot some more. Fast as you can load and shoot. Rats running away, across, right at us, climbing sheds, dashing into holes, through hog pens, into the ducks pens, out with the cattle…. DON’T SHOOT THE LIVESTOCK!!!! Man I went through 3 magazines in 20 minutes. Mike shooting his Cricket .22 with 16 shot magazines is tearing them up. We come upon a sectioned off bin the size of a one car garage and it is half full of putrefied (maybe) hog feed in the dark with red light you can’t really tell but the smell is sneaking through Mike’s wonder goo. The rats love it. They are rolling around in it, fornicating, defecating, playing rat soccer and just having a helluva party. I’m concentrating on the bin and Mike is watching the other side of the stub wall. Now as we cut loose the rats are running from one side of the wall to the other. Mike is giggling like a bunch of girls watching a dog hump Sister Theresa’s leg!
Look at this! One pops his head out Mike kills him another does the same thing climbing over the top of the just killed brother and Mike kills him and so on seven times.
We gotta take a breather, get air and a drink of water and more nose goo. Jumping poop balls bat man that was fun. Now I know what shooting fish in a barrel is like.
We head back to take a little break and get ammo and air. Mike is still giddy and I can feel a stupid grin on my face. “I think I kilt about 20 or so that round,” says Mike. I can’t claim a number because I wasn’t counting I was just listening to those 25 grain JSB’s thump when they hit. Mike asks if I remember two that the 25 picked up into the air as if they stepped on a land mine. “Ya that was awesome. Blew that little rats ass 2 feet into the air and it plopped down right in front of those two big black and white ducks.” They scurried off into a corner. What about the one that was dragging itself off and squeaking like crazy. You had to pop him again. “My favorite is the seven-up” say Mike.
And so the evening repeated itself for 3 hours. I used almost 100 JSB .25’s and Mike a like number of 18. JSB .22’s
A final note as we were wearing down we see a rat sitting in a pen about 10 feet away from us. I was closest and Mike a foot or two to my right. I shot and missed, shot again and missed. Mike says something very disrespectful, in fact borderline insulting. Something about being a stupid brainless imbecilic offspring of a Mongolian mated to a scurvy leper! He doesn’t shoot just looks at me shaking his head. WTF??? I had my clip in my left hand and was just shooting air! Well jeezuz Mike you kicked one into the concrete wall as hard as you could and he just blew it off and trotted away! Ya I guess were both tired so lets call it a night.
PS: Stopped at Mc Donalds for a coffee at around midnight. Walked up to the counter and the girl turned green and ran to the bathroom, 3 customers ran out leaving their food and a dog tied up outside puked! Seems Mike’s the goo works!
Give a green ball for accuracy if you like and want more. If not, well you know what to do! It’s accurate I swear…
CHAPTER 4
MOD EDIT: MOVED TO HUNTING SECTION
Enter the zone
My phone quacked at me and a text popped up. (I love duck calls ergo my ring is a Mallard hail call). “You gotta get your ass over here and kill these fing rats” signed JOSE!!! I text Jose back and whine about it being to damn hot can’t we wait till it’s a little cooler.
Hell no !!! Pops back at me. NOW! poop I guess we gotta do it I’m telling myself. God I am not ready for this. Just sold my little walking gun and new gun is not sighted in, cleaned or scoped. Streamline is to long and has monster scope. Double crap.
Called Mike and tell him we are on for Sat night rat killing at the pig farm. “Hot poop diggity dang dog I’m ready” spouts Mike. I tell him I’m not, and whine some more but he blows it off and tells me “We’ll be ready! We’re going!” He senses something eating on me and asks what’s really the matter. “Well if we are completely honest it’s the damn stink! It is so bad I’m pretty sure it would drive and Indian dog off a buffalo gut wagon” Hells bells last time my wife made me strip in the garage and throw my clothes in the garbage. She told me if I ever come in again like that she’s calling the HAZMAT people. The GD cat took one step in and shrieked, did an about face and was gone for 3 days.
OK I got some stuff from work we can put up our noses and we won’t smell anything. Honest we use it all the time around dead bodies. You’ll be fine.
The next evening we get together and get the little P15 ready intending to sight it in when we get there. 8:00PM rolls around and it is dark as we park and get ready. Sight in the little gun at 20 yards because that will be a long shot. Turn our red lights on, stuff some greasy stuff up our noses and head into living cesspool! “What is this nose stuff anyway? I’m kinda dizzy and my eyes are watering.” “Give it 5 minutes and your golden,” says mike.
Now things are happening. Rats rats everywhere and everything did stink as we are carried off into the zone. Shoot, shoot shoot , reload shoot some more. Fast as you can load and shoot. Rats running away, across, right at us, climbing sheds, dashing into holes, through hog pens, into the ducks pens, out with the cattle…. DON’T SHOOT THE LIVESTOCK!!!! Man I went through 3 magazines in 20 minutes. Mike shooting his Cricket .22 with 16 shot magazines is tearing them up. We come upon a sectioned off bin the size of a one car garage and it is half full of putrefied (maybe) hog feed in the dark with red light you can’t really tell but the smell is sneaking through Mike’s wonder goo. The rats love it. They are rolling around in it, fornicating, defecating, playing rat soccer and just having a helluva party. I’m concentrating on the bin and Mike is watching the other side of the stub wall. Now as we cut loose the rats are running from one side of the wall to the other. Mike is giggling like a bunch of girls watching a dog hump Sister Theresa’s leg!
Look at this! One pops his head out Mike kills him another does the same thing climbing over the top of the just killed brother and Mike kills him and so on seven times.
We gotta take a breather, get air and a drink of water and more nose goo. Jumping poop balls bat man that was fun. Now I know what shooting fish in a barrel is like.
We head back to take a little break and get ammo and air. Mike is still giddy and I can feel a stupid grin on my face. “I think I kilt about 20 or so that round,” says Mike. I can’t claim a number because I wasn’t counting I was just listening to those 25 grain JSB’s thump when they hit. Mike asks if I remember two that the 25 picked up into the air as if they stepped on a land mine. “Ya that was awesome. Blew that little rats ass 2 feet into the air and it plopped down right in front of those two big black and white ducks.” They scurried off into a corner. What about the one that was dragging itself off and squeaking like crazy. You had to pop him again. “My favorite is the seven-up” say Mike.
And so the evening repeated itself for 3 hours. I used almost 100 JSB .25’s and Mike a like number of 18. JSB .22’s
A final note as we were wearing down we see a rat sitting in a pen about 10 feet away from us. I was closest and Mike a foot or two to my right. I shot and missed, shot again and missed. Mike says something very disrespectful, in fact borderline insulting. Something about being a stupid brainless imbecilic offspring of a Mongolian mated to a scurvy leper! He doesn’t shoot just looks at me shaking his head. WTF??? I had my clip in my left hand and was just shooting air! Well jeezuz Mike you kicked one into the concrete wall as hard as you could and he just blew it off and trotted away! Ya I guess were both tired so lets call it a night.
PS: Stopped at Mc Donalds for a coffee at around midnight. Walked up to the counter and the girl turned green and ran to the bathroom, 3 customers ran out leaving their food and a dog tied up outside puked! Seems Mike’s the goo works!
Give a green ball for accuracy if you like and want more. If not, well you know what to do! It’s accurate I swear…
CHAPTER 4
MOD EDIT: MOVED TO HUNTING SECTION
