bb guns and a band aid box

2004-09-09T15:00:00.000-07:00

this one time me and jesse got some bb guns, bb pistols actually. we used to shoot pigeons in the airshaft with them, the things were like flying rats that kept you up at night with their cooing/purring. at some point you get tired of it all and you just can't take it anymore. it's funny how one thing leads to another, isn't that always the way of things?

one afternoon we were fooling around with the guns, nobody else was around, we were bored, and we were in my apartment, in the front room. shooting at stuff, we were putting pellets in the plaster and it was getting boring. the lead pellets would sink about an eighth of an inch into the plaster, and there'd be a gray circle on the wall. the wall looked like the inside of one of those farmhouses in the black and white war movies. when we moved out we just spackled over the whole thing. jesse was shooting very nice, we had taped up a piece of paper for a target for fun, like man from u.n.c.l.e. or something. he was making a grouping.

i looked a jesse hard. he stopped shooting, he said, "what?"

i put my gun down and i picked up an apple, and i went over to the wall, turned to face him with my back to the wall, about twelve or fifteen feet away from him. i put the apple on my head. "shoot it." i said.

he shook his head, his mouth a sick smile. "no way, you're crazy." he said.

i said, "do it. i won't move."

i stood there still, back to the wall balancing the apple on my head. he looked at me for a long time. then he raised the gun up in front of his face, his arms stretched forward as far as he could reach. we stood there like that for a long time. i watched his face, i watched the thoughts run across his face, one after another.

pfattt! he pulled the trigger and immediately the apple fell, bumping against the wall. i picked it up and the pellet had made a crisp circle about two-thirds of the way up the apple. clear through it. "i think i'm going to be sick," he said.

he came out of the bathroom with a metal band-aid box. empty. "my turn." he said.

"let's do each other at the same time," i said. i put the band-aid box on my head, he put the apple on his.

we stood facing each other across the room our guns aimed at a spot four and a half inches above each other's eyes. we stood looking at each other for a long time, looking from each other's eyes to the targets above them. finally he says, "on three."

"one"

"two"

"three -- pow! pow!"

our guns went off, the apple and the band-aid box fell to the floor thud-blang.

we stood there looking at each other for a long minute, then we put our guns down. my heart was racing. "I gotta go," he said, rubbing his eyes.

"yeah."

I don't remember us ever discussing it afterwards.

Schill said, "what's this band-aid box with the hole in it for?" "Nothing, Schill, target practice." "why do you keep it?" "I don't know." "Ok if I throw it away." "Dammit, Schill, just leave it alone, will you." "Are you gonna use it for something?"

sinnerstreet

bb guns and a band aid box