Friday, January 26, 2007

Darren Barefoot's got a post up on a friend who's been shot at three times, which sort of freaked Darren out. I know the feeling.

I lived my life up to age 22 thinking that living life fully meant not getting shot at. Then one night, I was closing out the DuKum with Kyle and Carl (yeah, it was a weeknight; what's your point?), and somehow the topic rolled around to "times I've been shot at". Carl had been shot at twice, Kyle once. All three were great stories. I had nothing. Even the random guy at the next table had at least one story about getting shot at. I felt like such a city boy.

I walked home from the bar, wallowing in my non-manliness. "How was the bar?" asked the woman I was then living with.

"Good, I guess, but it was kind of weird."

"Yeah?"

"Yeah. It turned out I was the only one at the table that had never been shot at. I kind of felt like less of a man."

"Huh." She looked thoughtful.

"What?"

"Well, now that I think of it, I've been shot at, too."

"Dammit!"

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