We used to shoot off .22 cartridges by balancing them on the muzzle of a pellet gun, held up over our heads, 'til one of us perps held his hand too close and had his fingers lacerated by brass fragments. Cue in on 3 ten year-olds scattering for home. I thought I was ok for a while, until the phone rang...
It's starting to make sense that the old man didn't let me have a .22 for a few years after that.
Last edited by gnoahhh; 07/15/11.