Skunky, Me, and BB Guns, Not a Good Combination

When middle and youngest sons were teenagers, they asked their momma and me if they could each have a BB gun. Their momma had no qualms about the idea and at first I didn’t either. Then I remembered an experience I had with my childhood friend, a great American if there ever was one, Skunky Wilson. That memory cast grave doubts in my mind concerning the sanity of putting a gun into the hand of any child sporting my DNA.

It was a late fall afternoon of my thirteenth year. Skunky and I grabbed our BB guns and headed for the woods surrounding the Wilson’s small farm. Now, we weren’t going to the woods for target practice, and we weren’t going to the woods to hunt squirrels, rabbits or snakes. No, we decided on something much more fun and entertaining, something that would truly test our hunting skills. We were going to play army…with loaded BB guns.

When we arrived at the forest’s edge, Skunky and I split up in opposite directions, Skunky heading west, me going east. We agreed that we would walk about a quarter of a mile in our respective directions before turning around to start hunting each other.

It’s interesting how one’s senses become more alert when one is being stalked. To say the least, I was a little jumpy, and the farther I moved in the direction where I had last seen my friend, my nerves became even jitterier.

We were well into the hunt when I heard a rustling in the bushes. Now, I knew better than to shoot at something before knowing for sure what it is. It can buy you a whole lot of trouble.
Immediately, I knew it wasn’t Skunky I winged with a BB. Instead, what I shot was the lone member of the animal kingdom from which Skunky’s nickname was derived. And ooooh it was mad! At least, that’s what I gathered from repugnant order it showered on me.

This was not good. Not only could I hardly stand to smell myself, but the wretched scent would give Skunky a huge edge in the war game we were playing. He’d smell me coming long before he’d see me. The only thing to do was to get down wind of him and attack from there. That’s just what I did.

Twenty minutes later, and maybe thirty feet ahead of me, I heard the crackling of a twig under someone’s foot. It had to be Skunky!

With my heart pounding so hard I thought it might break a rib, I quietly made my way toward the sound of the snapping twig. Shortly, I caught sight of my friend, standing, his left side to the front of me, listening intently for any indication of my presence.

All of a sudden he caught a glimpse of me. In what seemed like a fraction of a second he raised his gun and fired.

“Owe!” I yelled as a BB stung my left hand and I dived behind a tree for cover.

Skunky cautiously started in the direction where he saw me disappear. All the while, I crouched low behind the tree, constantly moving around it, keeping it between me and Skunky.

My friend continued searching the area where he thought I might have gone, and he wasn’t far off. As his shadowy figure moved closer in my direction I eased off a shot. It was a narrow miss, but it caught Skunky’s attention, and he dived behind some bushes. I aimed my rifle where Skunky’s vague form had disappeared, then pulled the trigger.

“Aye!” he yelled, confirming I’d scored a hit. Me, I chuckled out loud. “You dadburn--” his voice trailed off as he fired his gun in the direction of my laughter.

Now, you talk about luck. If I had Skunky’s kind of luck I’d for sure play the state lottery and I’d win! With the shadows in the forrest growing ever deeper, there’s no way he could have seen my face peering from around that tree. But within an instant of him firing his gun I felt a thump and a severe stinging sensation on my forehead, right between my eyes.
“Ooooouuuuuch! OK, that’s it. You win.” I hollered.

“Naw, I’d call it a draw,” Skunky answered back. “I just noticed I’m lying in a patch poison ivy.”
Well, eventually, we both healed from our wounds and managed to find more mischief to get into.

But do you honestly think, after thinking back on that experience, I was going to let my boys have BB guns? I don’t think so…unless, of course, they invited me to play army with them.