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special in the bag and slip
away.
    Ten minutes later, we were at Ralph’s range, each of us with
a gun in our hand. Ralph strutted over to me with a smile on his face and said,
“First off, you need to get yourself a real gun. These things are nothing but
trash. If you ever find yourself in a situation where you need protection, this
gun is only going to rile the bad guy, or you’ll end up shooting yourself in
the foot with it. Seriously, take mine, for instance. Here you have a Glock
9MM, semi-automatic, with all the stopping power you’ll ever need. It has a
magazine that holds eighteen rounds, and one in the chamber. Try it out.”
    At first, I was insulted, but then I realized he wasn’t
trying to hurt my feelings; he was just trying to be helpful. I took the gun.
It was a heavy chunk of steel in my hands, and after a few instructions, I
fired a round. “Wow! That was intense!” I screamed loud enough for him to hear
me through the hearing protection.
    Fred walked up to me and said, “Here, try mine. It’s a Rossi
.357. If you liked Ralph’s gun, I think you’ll like mine. They’re different,
but they both have a lot of power. This one has a cylinder that holds six
rounds.” He showed me how to open the cylinder to remove and replace the
rounds. The minute I fired the gun, I felt a powerful punch. I loved the way it
stung my finger.
    “Now, try yours.”
    I handed the gun back to Fred, picked up mine, and fired. The
small handgun felt like nothing.
    “What a big difference.” I was amazed. Both of them were
right. My gun was like a fly swatter compared to a cast iron skillet.
    “I’m convinced. I’ll have to trade mine in on something with
more guts. What’s the use of owning a gun like mine when I can have a real gun
like yours? Like you said, if you ever have to use it, make sure it’ll do the
job.”
    “If you’re interested, I’ll sell you mine for a fair price,”
Fred offered. “I’ve been planning on buying one like Ralph’s. I’m tired of a
revolver.”
    “How much do you want for it?” I asked.
    “I’ll take two hundred dollars. That’s about the going rate.”
    Two hundred dollars was a lot of money considering I bought
mine from a pawnshop for fifty bucks. Without hesitation and feeling that I had
formed a trust with these folks, I said, “Okay, I’ll take it. Will you take a
check?” The deal was sealed. I now owned a powerful gun and had made four new
friends.
    After shooting a few more rounds, I was ready to take a
break. I sat down on a tree stump and talked with my four new friends. I tried
to get to know them better. I was curious about what these people did for a
living, since it was a weekday and none of them was at work.
    “The county fair’s in town and everybody takes a few days off
from work. They have booths set up to sell crafts, T-shirts, food and other
stuff. They also have games and rides. It’s kind of like a pre-Memorial Day
celebration. Sunday, the fire station in town will have their buffet breakfast.
All you can eat for five bucks. The money collected goes to the upkeep of the
fire engines or wherever it’s needed. You might want to check it out. The
food’s pretty good,” Dolores said.
    We sat and talked for so long, my butt was beginning to get
sore. I realized the day was starting to slip away. I gave Fred a check for two
hundred dollars, stuffed my new toy, as they called it, into my purse and said
good-bye. I can’t imagine anyone calling a gun a toy. Hey, what do I know?
    I didn’t mention anything about the gun to Mom or Dad when I
returned home. I was afraid they might be skeptical of the transaction that
just occurred. Dad was in the detached garage, straightening things up so they
could park the van in it, and Mom was in the house getting the spare bedroom
ready. She was going to turn the room into a sewing room.
    I asked Dad, “Where’s Athena?”
    “She went inside with your mom the minute she heard the
shooting. I don’t think she