E. K., B. D., J. S., and S. P. peered through the heat waves into the distance from the edge of the coulee. They were on the hunt and nothing would stop these hardened Eastern Oregon Cowboys.
          The principal character's identities have been suppressed to protect . . .
[video:http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=h1PfrmCGFnk]

my reputation and dignity.
          No joke, if I spelled out their names, you would say this is a poorly constructed sendup, less believable than a Monty Python sketch. Rather like a Dr. Starfield as an astronomer, or a Dr. Deathridge as an M. D. funny certainly, but a little too obvious to be part of a simple narrative. It will be bad enough to describe what these four worthies did that very hot, dry, dusty afternoon near my hometown.

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          E. K., B. D., J. S., and S. P. were bored, that fateful day. It was late August, their last year in High School was a few days away and they needed something to do to remain sane. Lacking any real creative skills the four "thought up" a great idea: "Let's go hunting!" So. E.K. went to retrieve his 22 rifle from his closet. B. D. knew where his dad kept the ammunition for the WWII pistol he brought back from the war. J. S. had a rusty old shotgun, and S. P. went for the 30.06 he got for christmas last year.
          As E. K., B. D., and J. S. approached S. P. at the precipice B. D. asked S. P., "What the hell are you hunting for with that?" With a gleam in his eyes. S. P. laconically replied, "Let's see what we can find." All four exchanged meaningful glances as they started to spread out to start the long trek through the sagebrush, cacti, and rattlesnake infested sandy slope leading into the depression.
          B. D., 50 yards off, on the left flank, was starting to get bored, when "plunk" he felt rather than heard the bullet kick up a bit of sand near is heel. Diving for cover he brushed a prickly pear and crying out acquired a mouthful of sand. Spitting out the sand he shouted several expletives as he inquired of E. K.'s parentage and his frame of mind. Then, he returned fire, "Pop". Then "plunk", "Pop", "Boom", "Snap-zing" they all joined in on the fun.
          Fortunately (as in pure dumb luck), none of the quartet were injured that day, and the flora and fauna survived for the most part. I was wandering in a different part of the desert at that time so am only reporting from B. D.'s accounting of the events.
          I have a particular attitude (very much at odds with the NRA) about "gun control" that is informed by my experiences in the wilds of Eastern Oregon and the people I have known over the years. To state those attitudes without context would take but a few lines of text, unfortunately, without context . . . those attitudes wouldn't be worth the powder and lead needed to blow them to hell, as my dad would say.