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The Water Cooler
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What's was the most disconcerting thing involving a gun you ever saw?
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<blockquote data-quote="dennishoddy" data-source="post: 3501360" data-attributes="member: 5412"><p>When in High School, Terry Foster and I went quail hunting along the Salt Fork river South of Ponca City. Quail were plentiful and we shot most of a limit running out of shotshells. </p><p>Walking back to my 55 ford, we saw another vehicle parked next to ours. Two Native American brothers along with an older white guy drinking lime vodka (bottle in hand) had the back doors open(nobody locked their car doors then) and had recovered the .22 hex barrel pump rifle laying in the back seat. </p><p>We walked up and told them to put the gun down and GTF away. The older brother fired a shot into the tank of the pump jack and then turned the rifle on us, telling us to get in the car and put our guns down. It was fully loaded. (the .22 rounds were bought from a drum of loose .22 rounds at a discount store in Ponca. A truck carrying them was in an accident and the shells were covered in diesel fuel so they were sold by the pound in that store.)</p><p>Terry started cussing him, and he fired a shot from the back door of the 4 door at Terry's back but it hit a spring and ricocheted into an English Lit book I had on the floor board.</p><p>Then he pumped in a new round, stuck it to my temple and pulled the trigger. Snap.......</p><p>Dud round possibly to being contaminated by the diesel fuel. </p><p>Amazing how your entire life goes before your eyes in the second when the gun was applied and the trigger pulled. </p><p>I grabbed the barrel while he was pumping in a new round and told Terry we have to fight. I was 145 lbs at that time and Terry was just a bit bigger but we were both on the HS wrestling team. Opponents were both 200 lb plus and drunk. We got them down and Terry got the keys of their vehicle hanging out of the oldest brothers back pocket. We ruffed them up a bit, and ran back to my vehicle getting the heck out of there. </p><p>Up the road was a farmhouse so we stopped in there. Guy called the Sheriff who showed up about 30 minutes later. Driving down there, the two brothers were butt stroking the older white guy with my rifle while he laid on the ground. </p><p>Deputy pulled on them and got control of the situation. </p><p>Both brothers got 90 some years in the can and we got that rifle back a year after the trial. It's never misfired again. One time only. </p><p>I spent years waking up with nightmares watching a bullet come down a barrel, seeing the rifling as it was spinning toward me in slow motion. I would wake up right when it hit the end of the barrel in a sweat. </p><p>Went away after a couple of years. I could never talk about it to anyone. </p><p>The 90 year sentence was negated a few years later and the brothers released from big Mac when the court ruling giving native Americans sovereign nation status. Court ruled they were arrested illegally on native land. </p><p>Family was scared they would come after us, but it never happened.</p></blockquote><p></p>
[QUOTE="dennishoddy, post: 3501360, member: 5412"] When in High School, Terry Foster and I went quail hunting along the Salt Fork river South of Ponca City. Quail were plentiful and we shot most of a limit running out of shotshells. Walking back to my 55 ford, we saw another vehicle parked next to ours. Two Native American brothers along with an older white guy drinking lime vodka (bottle in hand) had the back doors open(nobody locked their car doors then) and had recovered the .22 hex barrel pump rifle laying in the back seat. We walked up and told them to put the gun down and GTF away. The older brother fired a shot into the tank of the pump jack and then turned the rifle on us, telling us to get in the car and put our guns down. It was fully loaded. (the .22 rounds were bought from a drum of loose .22 rounds at a discount store in Ponca. A truck carrying them was in an accident and the shells were covered in diesel fuel so they were sold by the pound in that store.) Terry started cussing him, and he fired a shot from the back door of the 4 door at Terry's back but it hit a spring and ricocheted into an English Lit book I had on the floor board. Then he pumped in a new round, stuck it to my temple and pulled the trigger. Snap....... Dud round possibly to being contaminated by the diesel fuel. Amazing how your entire life goes before your eyes in the second when the gun was applied and the trigger pulled. I grabbed the barrel while he was pumping in a new round and told Terry we have to fight. I was 145 lbs at that time and Terry was just a bit bigger but we were both on the HS wrestling team. Opponents were both 200 lb plus and drunk. We got them down and Terry got the keys of their vehicle hanging out of the oldest brothers back pocket. We ruffed them up a bit, and ran back to my vehicle getting the heck out of there. Up the road was a farmhouse so we stopped in there. Guy called the Sheriff who showed up about 30 minutes later. Driving down there, the two brothers were butt stroking the older white guy with my rifle while he laid on the ground. Deputy pulled on them and got control of the situation. Both brothers got 90 some years in the can and we got that rifle back a year after the trial. It's never misfired again. One time only. I spent years waking up with nightmares watching a bullet come down a barrel, seeing the rifling as it was spinning toward me in slow motion. I would wake up right when it hit the end of the barrel in a sweat. Went away after a couple of years. I could never talk about it to anyone. The 90 year sentence was negated a few years later and the brothers released from big Mac when the court ruling giving native Americans sovereign nation status. Court ruled they were arrested illegally on native land. Family was scared they would come after us, but it never happened. [/QUOTE]
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