The Benjamin Incident . . .

As a youngster in New Roads, I asked for and got a Benjamin Air Rifle (they still make them). All the boys my age generally had such a gun and we roved the town hunting and shooting. We shot at song birds, tin cans, ducks in the lake, fence postsm well you get it we went around shooting. That was acceptable male child behavior in the deep south.

The incident occurred when I shot myself in the foot, one of my toes actually. I was at Tommy Jewel's house (alas, Tommy a couple of years older than me is now pasted on) and we were talking. I used my air rifle as a sort of prop and leaned on the stock with the end of the barrel on top of my shoe. My shoe as I recalled was a leather loafer of sorts.

Well in the conversation as with small boys things got exciting. I had forgotten the gun was loaded, it was a .177 pellet gun. And I pulled the trigger. Pop, there was a hole in the top of my shoe and I removed the shoe and the sock and found it had gone into the side of my toe.

Well, I rushed home (three houses over from our house) and we went to the Doctor and he looked at it and then removed it. He said, "Don't do that again." I did not even get a stitch. I did not have limp. I got a band aid. My wound was superficial and I don't even have a scar. All I could show for it was a small hole in the top of my shoe which I continued to use.

Well as you can imagine word got around town about Chip's stupid act. I am sure it was a great laugh. The preverbial "he really did shoot himself in the foot" kind of thing.

Turns out one of my buddies at the opposite end of town, known as the Morning Side (East end of town) was demonstrating my stupid act to his buddies. He showed how I had placed the gun on top of my shoe and leaned on it. And then the pulled the trigger. Guess what, he shot himself in the foot.

So stupid old Chip had the last laugh.

Today, you can not shoot anything in the city limits. No fire works, no air rifles, no .22 rim fire rifles, no shot guns, nothing, nada. How times have changed. From brandishing guns to required helmets for bicycle riding. What a bunch of wimps. Times have changed, for the better maybe, for the worst, for sure. I ain't no fun anymore.