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Hunting & Fishing I am the predator...

coldboremiracle

Freelance Sharpshooter
Full Member
Minuteman
  • Jul 7, 2009
    5,237
    1,133
    Utah, north
    www.coldboremiracle.com
    The morning was damp from overnight rain, a muggy feeling as I rolled out of bed this morning.
    An early work day, and I was not feeling it yet.
    I stumbled down the stairs toward the kitchen, and turned on the light. The silence of the early morning surrounded me. As I sat there in a sleepy stupor, thinking about the days events. I was startled, by the sound of a grocery sack settling across the room. For a moment, I thought I saw a shadow of movement near bye.
    I went about the business of making my breakfast, and from the corner of my perspective, I saw him.
    In the blink of an eye, a small dark shadow shot across the kitchen floor.
    My jaw clenched as I wrapped my still cloudy mind around the situation.
    An intruder, with no respect for sovereignty, or private property, was now threatening the peace of my home. All I could think of is my dear wife, and her reaction upon discovering this interloper.
    No comfort, no solace, and the screams and torment would go on for days.
    In just a few seconds, all these scenarios played out in my mind. And above all this, a sharp deadline loomed over my head. My co-worker who was to carpool with me, would be pulling into the driveway any moment...
    Time slowed, and as I squinted my eyes into a wide angled gaze. My instincts aligned, and I transformed. My true nature revealed.
    Almost as if he felt the challenge, this foul rodent confronted me. Showing no fear, he walked out into the open, our eyes met. We stared at each other, studying the others movements, calculating.

    When he'd had enough, he scurried behind one of my wife's plants. Like a professional predator, I sprang into action. I hastily descended to the armory, and armed myself. In no time, I had returned again to the kitchen. In my hands, I held the equalizer. His speed was now matched by my marksmanship. My weapon of choice, was my daughter's Strawberry Shortcake issue Daisy air-rifle.
    My triumphant return to the kitchen was a deeply disturbing realization for my opponent. I could see his worried demeanor from a crossed the kitchen. As time ticked away, I knew I needed to make it count. Several times, he exposed himself, but with the patience of a trained killer. I waited for the perfect moment. As he showed himself for the last time, I drew aim.
    And I began the long trigger pull.
    When the shot was released, the BB shot a crossed the kitchen, under the table and between the legs of a chair. The wee mouse disappeared from view, only the sound of a BB rolling across the floor could be heard. I paused, my breath still held tight, and listened for a sign.
    A warm sense of satisfaction poured over me, as I heard a rustling sound. My prey had succumbed to my shot, and was now in the throws of death. I carefully drew near, weapon still on point, never yielding.
    He lay there, in a puddle of his own life sustaining blood. One shot, to his little brain pan, had ended this standoff.
    I reveled in the moment, knowing that my family would wake soon, and know nothing of the fear, and the struggle. That my wife would carry on her day, burden less.
    I removed the offender, and cleaned up the mess. It was time to go to work, well, at least to my part time job. My real job of course being a predator.





     
    You shouldn't have told your wife a thing and left it propped up in the shower for her to find. That's when the real entertainment would have ensued.
     
    “People sleep peacefully in their beds at night only because rough men stand ready to do violence on their behalf.”
     
    “People sleep peacefully in their beds at night only because rough men stand ready to do violence on their behalf.”
    Actually, they sleep peacefully because they haven't a clue. Come to think of it, that's probably why they can get to sleep in the first place. [emoji14]
     
    Scotty, this was a free range rodent, not one of those cheese and corn fed bastards that live behind the barn all year.

    I wish I could say my family sleeps peacefully because they are confident in my defensive skills, but it wouldn't be honest. They sleep peacefully every night, and a portion of the morning whenever possible. You see, they all suffer from a mental condition known to medical science as; "fucking-sleepy-asses". I probably could have used my .44 rem mag to dispatch this defiant, whiskered, intruder, and my family would be none the wiser. Only until later that day, when Mrs. CBM called to discuss the "bloody God-dammed-hole-in-the-floor" as she usually refers to them, would I have to explain that mornings pre-dawn altercations.