"There's a gun. By the fire place." I picked it up and inspected it. "I can't help but notice that it's loaded. This gun."
"Yeah," my dad explained. "I got an armadillo tearin' up my flower beds. I'm gonna teach it a lesson."
Later that evening I was in the linen closet getting some clean sheets for the guest bed. I reached for the flannel, because they're soft and warm and a pistol fell out of the bottom sheet. I sort of stared at it resting against my toes. "There's a gun in the sheets." I announced.
"Yeah, that's there for protection."
"From what?" I asked.
"From burglars or whatever" my dad explained.
"Oh."
I'm afraid to open any more cabinets or doors. I don't want to find the rocket launcher or the stack of grenades.
Posted at 2:15 p.m.
previously on Sooner � next on Sooner
last five entries