When you think of a stereotypical Texan you ususally imagine a cowboy in a 10 gallon hat with a gun on his hip. And subconsciously you probably imagine that he/she knows how to use that gun, after all that's what Texas is all about: barbeque and guns. However, despite the fact that I was a true bred Texan, I had never even held a real gun and that left a little part of my Texas soul unfulfilled. This was the motivating factor that drove me to say yes when Mark invited me to go shooting with him the day after my birthday. He claims it was a date, but it was me and three other guys. (So unless the other two guys were a couple, it was not a date.) We set up pumpkins on a hill and I was pretty nervous, but the sleepy Texan inside of me awakened and I actually did pretty well.
One shot, right between the eyes.
That pumpkin never stood a chance against me.
Lookin' gangsta
Black powder riffle in one hand and a Derringer in the other.
Mark is holding his 1942 Russian M-91
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