PostCards Never Written
Janita Van de Velde
The morning after the party, we went duck hunting on Stuís property. I had been bragging a little the night before that I knew all about hunting and that I had tons of experience with handling guns. This is what happens when you drink alcohol laced with milk. Verbal diarrhea is to be expected. Stu pulled out two twelve-gauge, double-barrelled shotguns, one for Johnny and one for me. Although I had eradicated the odd varmint from our cow pastures back home with a .22 rifle, I had never in my life handled a twelve-gauge shotgun. A weapon like this would have blown our little gophers into the stratosphere. God help us all.
All images and text copyright Janita Van de Velde ©2007