grandfather got the 12 gauge
and we went out into the yard
it was sunday morning
neighbors were sleeping or getting ready for church
he broke the gun open and slid two shiny red shells into their chambers
snapped the barrels closed and handed it to me
the gun was heavy and smelled of oil and powder solvent
“aim at the old shed and lean into it, she kicks some”, he told me
i covered the shed and pulled a trigger
BLAM
the recoil staggered me back
“hold tight against your shoulder”
BLAM
i was jarred but not so much
“here”, he said, handing me two more red shells
i had fired off maybe ten or twelve rounds
when the sheriff drove up
a big man weighted down with sheriff gear
we were busted
but the cuffs didn’t come out
instead the sheriff and grandfather set to talking
about where the fish were biting
and the the intricacies of squirrel hunting
i didn’t get to shoot any more
the shotgun was carefully cleaned
and put back in its place in the closet
the shed survived another day
The Ace Hotel Notebook 