Dead Fred

"Don't think you're going to shoot to wing him; shoot to kill."

That's what the shooting instructor said. Even as I cringed inwardly, I realized the wisdom of his words.

Our targets were set up--a line of human sihouettes.

If this was going to work for me, I had to play a little mind game. I thought of the scariest scenario that I had ever worried about:  me alone at home with several of my little ones and a big guy named Fred, brandishing a knife as he was breaking into my house.

I fumbled with trying to get the bullets into the magazine-I awkwardly wrapped my fingers around the gun's handle-I shuffled my feet, trying to get into a proper shooting stance-I hemmed and hawed and hesitated until I could put it off no longer. With trepidation, I squeezed the trigger. Well, that wasn't as scary as I thought it was going to be. Then I squeezed it a few more times.  Well! That wasn't so bad. It was actually rather exhilarating!

                                                   And Dread Fred became Dead Fred.