Packin' Heat

It was time. The stars had aligned, pay day was at hand, and I was headed to a gun shop. Before the day was out, I was going to be the owner of a weapon of mass destruction.
Well, sort of. I was on a mission to buy myself a bad-ass BB gun.
You could smell the testosterone before you even opened the door. The walls were lined with animal heads with freakishly shiny faux-eyeballs. Everyone seemed to be wearing some combination of flannel, Carharts, and ball caps (dear lord, it was my lumberjack fantasy come to life.....) Shelves lined with scopes, firearms, cases of bullets. There was a gynormous display of Old Dutch potato chips, side-by-side with a display of jerky. It was overwhelming. I think I now understand what men feel like when they accidentally wander into Bath & Body Works.
When I wandered in, there was a discussion going on consisting of how many points respective bucks had had in years past, and how badly the current speaker was stretching the truth. It took them a minute to notice that there was a girl in their midst, but then they saw me. All conversation stopped, and suddenly not only the glass eyes from the ceiling were staring at me. It was one of those somewhat-tense moments, where you wonder if you've fallen down the rabbit hole and perhaps running away might be the better option. (Thank god they were deer hunters, not cannibals, or I would really have started sweating.) Finally, the guy behind the counter cleared his throat and asked "Er...hem...can I help you with something ma'am?" So I explained I was looking for a BB gun. And some guy in the back near the corn stove piped up "Your boy going after some tiny deer, honey?" Har har har. (Did I mention I had conveniently forgotten that it is only three days before gun-deer season starts? Ooops.) I waited for the laughter to die down, and said calmly "Well, no, honey. I'm planning on shooting them myself." Snorts, har-de-har, whoooeeeee she gotcha, Bobbo! Oh funny lady that I am. I followed this up with "Actually, I'm raising rabbits and I thought I could kill them faster with a tiny bullet, rather than standing on their necks." Silence. From the back: "Uhhhh....really?" The male stares were suddenly a bit warmer. Apparently, in this neck of the woods, a woman who knows how to knock off her own dinner is an object of desire. Where is the singles dating site for that?!?
I found myself in the middle of a discussion of the merits of a classic Red Ryder BB gun (ala "you'll shoot your eye out") versus a high powered Gamo model. Both had their good points, and fan clubs on either side. What seemed to win the argument was a statement from a laconic farmer-type who finally broke into the fray with a story about how on the hunting channel, he saw a guy take down a wild boar with the Gamo model. And taking down a boar that is charging of course means that I'll be able to take down a bunny in a box. The vote was unanimous.
That's how I found myself walking out with a lovely box containing a pump action, super-scoped high powered BB gun, with some very nice gentlemen cheerily waving good-bye. I also have a lot of advice about how I can stalk chipmunks covertly living in rock pile sanctuaries and take down those crazy little squirrels that live in the tall tall trees, mocking all of us bipeds with their suspiciously expert climbing abilities.
Just wait until I wander back in for .22! I'd better still have both eyes....