Read Online And De Fun Don't Done by Robert G. Barrett - Free Book Online

barrel with his thumb and forefinger and remembered what Eddie said: ‘You don’t pull the trigger. You squeeze it, gently. Just like your girl’s tit.’ After sighting up on the orange sticker, Les managed to put another eight bullets in a short straight line right across the circle of holes around the bullseye. Les put the guns on the bench after that and watched Hank. Laurel Lee was all concentration, aiming and firing as if his life depended on it; and probably so he could show Norton up. Around him the rest of the mob,in their Elmer Fudd caps and cammies, were blazing away as if they were defending the Alamo. Norton walked down to a drink machine next to the office and got a can of Grape Crush, which tasted alright for a change. When he got back a new team had moved onto the bench next to him. It was a bloke about forty and three kids, the oldest of whom would have been eleven. Dad unpacked the gear and away they went. Blam, blam, blam! Then Dad pulled out a huge stainless steel Magnum; even with Les’s ear-protectors on the noise was almost deafening. He sat and drank his Grape Crush till the hooter sounded and they all went out to check their targets.
    â€˜I’ve never fired one of those things before,’ said Les. ‘How did I go?’
    More interested in his own target, Hank looked briefly at Norton’s. ‘You managed to get a couple near the markers and that’s about it.’ Hank gave a shitty sort of laugh. ‘Apart from that, you missed the target altogether.’
    â€˜What about that black part in the middle?’ Les watched Hank’s eyes spinning around as he stared at Norton’s target. ‘You’re supposed to get them all in a circle, aren’t you? I managed to do that with the little gun. But the big one just seemed to keep firing in a straight line. Looks neat, but.’ Norton gave a little laugh. ‘It’s still good fun though — ain’t it?’
    Hank muttered something about Les still not grouping his shots correctly, then stormed back to his bench. Les followed him and away they went again.
    After about thirty minutes or so it wasn’t boring enough; it was also starting to cloud over and thunder was rattling ominously across the sky. One of the kids at the next bench said something about someone using a big gun upstairs, which Les didn’t think was a bad line. Who said seppos didn’t have a sense of humour? Hank kept firing steadily away with his Peacemaker, playing John Wayne or whatever. In between breaks he’d scrabble around on the floor for his shells like an old chook. Lesknew if he didn’t do something they’d be there all bloody day, so he started shoving clips of bullets in the guns and blazing away with them two at a time till there was hardly enough of his paper target left to throw at a wedding. Finally Les laid both guns on the bench, with the clips out, like a good gun freak, and waited patiently. Eventually Hank reached for more ammo.
    â€˜Hey! Where’s all the goddamn bullets?’
    â€˜I don’t know,’ shrugged Les. ‘I think we’ve run out. Fuckin’ good fun, though, ain’t it?’
    â€˜Jesus Christ!’
    â€˜Don’t worry.’ Les went for his pocket. ‘We’ll buy some more.’
    â€˜You can’t buy bullets out here.’
    â€˜You can’t? Ohh shit! What a bastard. Wait on, maybe some of these people might sell us a few bullets.’
    Hank’s eyes looked like they were going to spin out of his head. ‘Ohh, for chrissake!’
    This time around Les thought he might give Laurel a hand to pick up the empty shells; they were nearly all under Les so he didn’t have far to reach. They retrieved their targets, Hank threw his in the garbage tin, Les folded his up into a tiny ball and put it in his pocket, saying something about what a great souvenir it would make. There was more thunder, and it started to