I was takin' turkey scraps back to Ron's woodlot when I looked down into the field and saw a little brown bastard mockin' my gun-free condition. Well, I ran back to the house, grabbed the ol' .223, and went back down there and cleaned the little bastard's clock.
I did forget to grab the phone in the process, so no pics of this one.
I brought the .223 up to camp just for grins, but wasn't sure if I'd get a chance to bust it out or not. Glad I got the opportunity to put 'er to work.
I hunt animals, wreck bikes, eat weird things,
drink good beer and bitch about society
for your entertainment pleasure.
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