I've Just Fucking Shit Myself!

I decided to take the rifle for a stroll, this afters. Nothing much on my mind, really. Just a lovely day and I thought I'd go look some ground over, maybe meet up with Pat for a natter.

Now, this new gun's a bolt action with a five round clip in it. First such rifle I've handled in my life. I've always had single shot things. My habit, when on a patrol, being to sight a target and then slip a round in and get on with the job.

What I've taken to doing with this one, especially as I'm actually more likely to end up running into people than targets, is carry the magazine clip in my pocket. Two rounds in it. I carry a few more, loose, just because. I also carry the bolt at half cock and the safety on. About as disarmed as a real rifle can practically be, to my mind.

And that's how I'm contentedly strolling down the road there. Rifle slung on my shoulder. Nodding and smiling to the seemingly endless procession of traffic. One eye on the bog below. Lovely, sunny day and I'm at peace with the world. Great.

Then something caught my eye. It was just a dark spot in some grass down there. Only this grass was right beneath the hollow tree the feral cat lives in. Was it just a shadow. A trick of the light? Or was this something a bit more sinister? If so, I'd be off through the gate and would have to work my way down, well away from the road, and take a diagonal shot.

But, my eyes being what they are these days, I just couldn't be sure. No matter. I just popped the rifle off my shoulder and took a peek through the 'scope. I even made a point of holding the gun quite ridiculously, right hand halfway up the stock, so that anyone could see I wasn't actually preparing to fire at anything. Anyone, such as the occupant of the latest motor that I was vaguely aware of being about to pass me.

Quick glimpse and it was, in fact, just a shadow. And, as I dismounted the rifle from my shoulder, I caught a glimpse of white, behind me. White motor. And it was stopping. And a voice was saying, " What are you up to? ".

I've turned round and there's a fucking Garda patrol car! Of no concern to me, of course. I'm licensed to carry the rifle. I'd been pointing it onto my written permitioned land. Blimey; It wasn't even loaded and I genuinely hadn't had any intention of taking a shot. Obviously ~ that being illegal, of course. So I was smiling affably as I turned, gun held vertical, of course, to greet these two Gards.

" Hullo, chief. I was just taking a look at something. " (Me old mucker. Me old mate) I wasn't too fucking chuffed with his reply though. And the flat tone of his delivery made the old sphincture hesitate; " Ye not allowed to. " Oh .....

" Oh! Sorry! " I said, as cheerfully as I could ~ for fuck sake, let's keep this reasonable, guys! A slight misunderstanding. No possible harm done or even intended. " I know it's not allowed to fire from a road way. But I was just having a look with the 'scope! See? Clip's in my pocket (Have ye got a license?) ..... as is my license (Thrust!) see? ".

Where do I live? Down there. Is it a .22 Hornet? Yes. (Fuck me! This one's Good! He hasn't even seen the fucking license!) Just to Really 'make my day', el fucking razor blade there, Gard 'Tell a calibre at a glance' is just a bit too authorative for my liking. I'm getting " Superintendent ". As in; Head fucking honcho from the big town. Mr Life or Death Last Say on our licenses!

And now he's looking at My license. And, oh dear god! He's uttering the name of the local Gard who OK'd that very license! And I oh so which he hadn't pronounced that name with quite such a curling of the lip!

Anyway, I wasn't arrested for using a telescopic sight with intent. They went their way and I went mine. But it Really put the dampers on My lovely little afternoon stroll. I mean; Such things do, don't they?

So, I wandered into Pat's yard. Had a chat with him ~ Thanks a bunch, Pat, for saying that, had the damn thing been loaded, they'd have had me! Just what I needed to hear! Then, basicaly, I wandered back home again and sat down to look at the photo's I'd been taking, with the new camera I've bought, for Derelict Places.

So, here I am. Just trying to settle myself down and lose this nagging fear that's plagued me all afternoon since and the Dogs go off. I've glanced out the window and Here We Fucking Go! I've got the local Gard's moter coming straight down the track towards me!!! Would he be out here, so quick, 'Just' to read me the riot act? Far more likely my beloved new rifle And that fucking license will be leaving with him!

I've never really noticed his motor before. But Dean O's told me he drives a 'Jeep'. And here it comes now! I can see the fuck off big strip lights on top. Just like on the American squad car I saw on the pub TV yesterday. I'm fucked. And this time the spinchture's having none of it! It's the end of the world as I know it; And I feel sick!

I can't exactly say What I felt when I got out there. Because Pat's there! WTF's He doing here? And he's all smiles. And he's got who I recognise as the local Solicitor with him??? Now they're both burbling on about Local Elections. The Solicitor's breaking my fucking hand with a well practiced grip. And I'm dimly aware that ~ for some bloody reason I'm yet to fathom! They've come driving down my track with the fucking 'Boot' open!

The lights I'd seen were the Back lights of some bloody motor, only stuck up the air and thus showing above the roof. It contained only my friends. One of whom is standing for election in some local to do and, I imagine, Pat was riding shot gun to guide him round our hidden homes and present a better known face to us, the suspicious and surly. Surly and gun owning.

At least for now. Scared to fucking death how my next application may go now though! FFS!