My wife has unfortunately followed through on her threat to purchase a handgun. In response, I threatened to spend this year’s vacation fund on a top-of-the-line bulletproof vest. But that was before I saw her in action at the shooting range last night.
We stopped by the local range for Sophia’s first practice session, accompanied by an acquaintance deputy sheriff who’d graciously agreed to teach her the basics. As targets, the range provides its customers with life-sized human torso silhouettes. My wife fired her initial clip at her target and reeled it in, only to find the torso unscathed.
Before her second attempt, the deputy helped Sophia adjust her stance and reminded her to use the pistol’s sights to line up her shot. She again emptied her clip in the direction of the silhouette. Yet once more, when she retrieved the target she found it in pristine condition.
By no means am I any sort of gun expert, but on Sophia’s second go round I tried to follow her shots to their terminus. She may’ve missed the target entirely, but I could swear all her rounds clustered together at a midpoint just beneath the torso.
Apparently I wasn’t the only one who’d noticed the curious grouping. The deputy also believed Sophia was aiming low, and he instructed her to modify her aim accordingly. She tried twice more to register scores on the silhouette but all her shots went awry, instead clustering in the same area below the torso.
At that point the deputy had to leave, but not before scratching his head and offering me a bewildered parting comment: “That’s the darnedest shooting I’ve ever seen. From the looks of things your wife can’t hit the side of a barn. But if that was a real guy, every shot she took would’ve hit him in the nuts. I’ll tell you one thing; if I saw her aiming at me, I’d say a quick goodbye to my Johnson.”
I feel inclined to agree with the deputy. That’s why I’ve changed my mind about purchasing a bulletproof vest … and decided to buy a top-of-the-line bulletproof cup instead.