'How I Became A Hired Gun'... by Michael Piccione

In this day and age of every half-witted, hand wringing politician from our town councils to the Halls of Congress and the Oval office trying to usurp the 2nd Amendment and take our guns away - this short story by Mike Piccione is a breath of fresh air.

"It was May 11, 1967. My father drove from Rochester, NY to Johnstown, NY to visit. He picked me up and we drove to Amsterdam which was nine miles away. We parked in the lot next to a store that was very small but packed with stuff and I had been there before. I don’t remember the name of the store; we just referred to it by the owner’s name, Vito’s. We walked in.

“Hey Vito!” “Hey John!” That was always the exchange upon entry. They always said the same thing and shook hands with gusto. I usually said “Hi Vito” but today I was uncharacteristically silent. I knew we were there for business and I was hoping it concerned me. I was not going to say a word. Too risky: it could jinx the whole trip
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My father pointed to something hanging on the wall behind the counter. “That’s the one” my dad said, Vito repeated “That’s the one” and took it off the wall and put it in its original box. My father paid him then said “See ya Vito, thanks!” Vito replied “See ya John, thanks!” Then we walked outside.

Ten steps or so from Vito’s front door and about halfway to the car my father, so unbelievably happy, did what I could have only thought impossible if not completely and utterly improbably. He handed me the box and said “Happy birthday, son!”

It was the day before my eighth birthday and I now had my own BB gun. (This is my rifle. There are many like it but this one is mine.) It was profound on many levels. First, I was still technically 7 years old and to me, on the eve of my birth, there were only two age groups: 0-7 and 8-100 so I was a still a kid and my dad thought a lot of me to give me a gun. Second, I was a gun owner. I joined the league of extraordinary gentlemen I read about in Sports Afield (the doctor up the road would let me have his old magazines).

That meant at any time Jack O’Connor could invite me over for brandy and we would talk guns — him about his, and me about mine. Third, I was in third grade at the time and could look upon my peers as mere children and that Mrs. Hugg, our teacher, probably didn’t have a BB gun so she was somehow now a bit of an equal. Yes she could teach, but I could hunt. Fourth, I was keeping this masterpiece of steel and plastic. I knew it. No matter what mom said."

Click here to link to the rest of the story to see how Mike became a hired gun... but before you do -- think about this: If you have a grandson or great grandson, who is being parented by some sissified metro-sexual dad or over cautious mom, perhaps your involvement could change things in that lad's life perceptively.  We might not be as casual about guns in this century as we were when I was a youth -  but you can definitely play a role. 

Okay - now go read the rest of this story in the DailyCaller.com