Even better is when we hand a gun to my dad's friend. This poor guy just doesn't know how to hold onto the gun. It would help if he was clean or sober, sure, but I digress.
Once he asked my father, while they were in the truck, to hand him the .22, he saw a rabbit he wanted for dinner (Yep, he lives in the sticks and thinks he's an indian). My dad, jokingly, handed him the .45 caliber black powder. He touched it off, and the scope sliced his forehead open pretty badly.
Not the first time that's happened, and certainly not the last. In fact, I handed him the .308 Remington ADL (loaded with SA surplus) and he sliced his forehead up again. He doesn't know how to hold it up to his shoulder, I guess. Or maybe it's the booze. Booze and guns don't mix.