A brother-in-law like a mother-in-law....
I've got two brother-in-laws; just in case the other one ever reads this, I'm not talking about my TN relative.
If anyone can top this, I'd be pleased to read about it, just to know that I don't have the only galactically pompous brother-in-law.You've all worked with the type before--ain't nothin' he don't know; whatever you can do, he can do better in his sleep.
Years ago, after much cajoling I relented and joined my brother-in-law on an excursion to the local indoor range. He'd been after me for a couple years to join him shooting so I could witness his prowess after he found out from my wife
that I had an "interest" (he doesn't know that I am a rangemaster at the time). We're at their house and he has a brainstorm--we've got 2 hours to kill before the kids come home.. let's abandon the wives and hit the range about 10 minutes away. My wife thinks it's a great idea
; I'm thrilled
. With no legitimate objections or excuses left, I'm trapped into the session he's been dying for--to take me out to the range and show me "what he can do".
We get to the range and the only two open stalls are the middle two. We set up, and start shooting--mind you, we're sharing one gun in two stalls--my brother-in-law has been able to weasel this from the rangemaster by convincing him to allow us to pay for both stalls. Maximum distance is 25 yards, I'm set up at ~20yd, my brother-in-law's out at ~12yd. I punch a few through, and hand the open gun to him across the divider without violating the 180 rule. He proceeds to load and cut loose. With two hands, he looks like Dirty Harry with his one-handed S&W 29. BOOM! he lets the gun ride up; slowly he drops the front sight (I assumed) down onto the target and snaps another off. He shoots all 7 off and looks just like Clint, but worse; he looks like it's a 500 S&W one-handed, instead of two. I am mortified; I
know he hasn't hit @$#% . I notice that a couple of the other shooters have stopped and are watching him curiously; I'm watching him cautiously,too. He never really violates any range rule, and for that I am grateful. It's embarrassing enough to have other neophytes singling us out.
We pull the targets in; I am pleased to have about a 4" group (no big feat, I know, but I was happy). Without looking at my target, he smiles proudly and says,"well look at that--all on paper. Whaddya think?"
Shee-yit. I'm ready to go. I said, "I only count five."
"Yeah, but I was shooting faster than you".
I'm still concerned that his gun-handling is borderline, so I stay and watch through 3 more magazines. But aside from riding the recoil, he's not violating any rules. I can't stand it no more; I need a break. I go out for a smoke, and the rangemaster says, rightfully, "If your friend:banghead: can't stay on paper, he's gonna havta stop."
Not in a belligerent way, I said something like 'I didn't know missing the target was grounds for expulsion--I'm not arguing with you here--he's terrible."
"Yeah. He's shooting my steel target holders."
"oh." small 'O', small 'H'. I feel this big-> =. "Okay. I'll be pleased to lock down on him." Just as I turn from the counter to go back in, we hear a gunshot and then an awful racket in the following silence. Some azzbite has blown out the flourescent lights above his stall--(everyone, all together, point to the "perp"). The metal housing is swinging like a pendulum, hanging from one chain. I'm just barely contented to be out at the range office and not standing right next to him with a sheepish look on my face that says to everyone, "yup, we did it". Hell, my brother-in-law wasn't even phased. I was really embarrassed and wanted to yank my brother-in-law from the line. I started in; finally, I've got cause to chew his butt about safety and gun-handling.
I didn't have to. The rangemaster is irate. Over the PA system he says, "YOU!! WITH THE SHOTGUN LLAMA! STOP!! CEASE FIRE ON THE RANGE!! Number 7, stand down, I said!!! Pack your @#!$% up, and join your friend:banghead: out here! Your finished!!"
I couldn't crawl outta there fast enough. The @#$%^ of it was, I had to ride back to his house, enduring 10 minutes of blather about why he couln't understand why his gun failed him.
:banghead:
The only good thing to come of this, was, he never ever asked me to join him shooting or even mentioned guns again-- for that, I be's smilin', man... I guess god grants the small favors.