| Target Practice
By Jacqueline Howett My neighbor had his rifle out again in the garden, shooting squirrels like they were enemy soldiers, or hitting for a prize at the fun fair shooting range as they passed along his garden fence. Trouble was, for the past two years now, the squirrels were dropping dead in my garden. They didn't die without a fight; they were still running as squirrels do, after they were shot. Every now and then when I thought my neighbor wasn't around, I go out and count the mass of squirrels. The stench of dead stiff squirrels scattered beyond quarter way onto our land, was disgusting. I had been meaning to muster up enough courage to tell him to stop it, as it was a fowl mess to clean up; and besides I love squirrels, but he was the cagey old sort. This negative energy flowing into my world was contaminating the positive natural harmony about me. I was going to report him, but thought it best to give him a warning. When? I thought. Soon, I'll muster up some courage and tell him. My lawn guy was noticing too the extra chore, and it was his idea I tell the police, that it wasn't allowed in the residential area of a city. I imaged one or two overlooked squirrels being ripped open by the grass mower, while the gardener placed those he could see into the garden rubbish bag. I finished my coffee on my patio, one morning, then wandered off in my thoughts listening to the birds before I stood up and paced about the patio area, as I normally do, when my neighbor's rifle I noticed was aiming right at me. I froze with disbelief looking right at him. He shot at me. Did that really happen? I thought. How lucky I was to be still alive. He looked right at me and sniggered, then turned his rifle about and shot in another direction, this time at his own garden fence line. I quickly moved out of site, went back inside the house to take it in again what just happened. Right that's it, that's it, I said loudly, squirrel’s was one thing, but not at people, he has pushed his luck now a little too far. Someone's got to tell him, I went back outside to take it in again what happened. I tried to sit down. But got up thinking he might be attempting another shot at me. He thinks I'm a freaking soldier, I bet. Oh no, now I can't go out in my own garden to sit. His old, he must be senile. Do I report him? They might lock him up. I don't want to wreck their home life if they do cart him away. I went back inside and called to my boyfriend Jeff upstairs." You're not going to believe what just happen," I hollered up to him, "our neighbor just aimed his rifle at me, and fired, then laughed right at me. He looked right at me too when he pulled the trigger. He sniggered would you believe. Then he looked again right at me. He probably thinks I'm a Jap. Are you going over there to give him a piece of your mind or what? This has gone too far." Jeff my boyfriend stood in disbelief at the top of the stairs. He had just finished shaving, "Really, he shot at you?" "Yeah - Me. Come outside and I'll show you exactly what he did. What’s in that rifle anyway, pellets or real bullets?" I asked. He followed behind me saying nothing. He was still taking it in. "I think the rifle he has is a 22 Caliber rifle and yeah they're real bullets, 22 caliber-shorts." “The guy, he's nuts, senile," I said, "He probably thinks I'm a soldier in the war, shooting at the freaking enemy. How far do these 22 caliber bullets travel, could they reach me at that distance?" I asked, "Yeah that could get you. Where was he standing?" Said Jeff. He was still trying to take it in. "It wasn't at you, right, it was at a squirrel right?" "No, there was no squirrel; it was at me, eye to eye, hello? You see that tree in his garden by his house on the left; he was standing right under it, well that faces directly at me in our garden in the patio, I was standing here. Seems he got a straight shot from there. Gosh, a real bullet. I could have been hit in the head, or the eye, or chest, or dead. Come on, let’s go over there right now and give him a piece of our minds," "Are you sure that's what happened?" He said hesitantly. "Oh for crying out loud, Yes! How come you don't believe anything I say?" I could see he didn't like the idea of confronting him. Especially if he thought it was all in my head. "God I'm surrounded by loonies, I huffed off. Oh-if you can't do it, then I will. He can't be allowed to do that again. I know what happened." I began marching towards the fence. "Hello, Hello," I said, raising my voice, "Hello," My neighbor hid in the garage. I kept shouting out, hello, but he pretended not to hear. Jeff at that point hurried after me towards the fence and stood behind me like a little boy holding onto his Mummies apron-strings, but all the while hoping to look brave and speak up if pushed. His wife came out and greeted us at the fence. "Your husband just fired his rifle right at me in my garden, and then he laughed," I said., "He looked at me right in the eye too and sniggered after the shot. You tell him to stop that rifle aiming into our garden and especially at me. The squirrels were bad enough, but human beings. This has got to stop. Gosh, he could have shot me." Her eyes locked with mine with the moment of truth. "I'm so glad you came over", She said, in all seriousness, "He wouldn't listen to me, and how many times I've told him, but now you have come over, I think he will listen, I knew you would be over sooner or later". She sounded relieved. We all knew he was hiding still in the garage and listening. Apron strings went through my mind again. Hmm, she turned around every now and then to see if he was coming out. His senility and seeing him being carted away and locked up flashed my mind uncomfortably, and then I thought about senility hitting so many of those vet guys, and what women have to live with and put up with in silence. It annoyed me he wasn't at the fence and that his wife had to speak for him. I knew he knew what I thought, the sneak. Come out and be a real man. I whispered telepathically to him, it was a good lesson for my boyfriend too, who now decided to speak up suddenly as if for all men. His male voice seemed all-important. "Look we don't want to cause any problems for you", he said, "Were not calling the police or anything like that, but he could have hit her with that shot and really, we don't want to sound threatening or cause you any trouble this time". I guess the old guy picked it up. "He won't do it again now you came over here to tell him about it, it's just me he won't listen too," Said the wife. She gave me a look, women to women. I understood she had to live with him. I had known vets like him, it gets scary and there are no guarantees. "This should bring him to his senses now." She said. "And all the dead squirrels I have to pick up when they die in our garden". I said "Yes, I know, poor squirrels," she said, "I hate the way they're still alive after and have to die slowly. His shooting them, saying they take the food we put out for the birds". We changed the subject, cooled off to be polite, talked about their trailer and their holidays, and introduced ourselves by name. Our hovering here at the fence this long in sweet oddness, was our way of hoping to bring him out from his garage to face the music; but mostly so that he could face himself, but he never came. He probably felt embarrassed, and I think he knew by now how serious it was. He had been warned. But I'm still going to watch him, and if I hear one rifle sound again, hit another squirrel... |
| Copyright (c) Jacqueline Howett. 2008 |
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