News: My poor Mom.

My poor Mom.

My poor Mom.

One summer day last year we were in our farm house in New Hampshire.  My brother's friend, Michael, had just made a spankin new potato gun.  We ran out of potatos.   You know what I am talkin about.  Everything is happy until you run out of potatos.  Mom is sitting peacefully at the picnic table reading.  Michael gets the .22 and nails a chipmunk that had been terrorizing our grain supplies.  He stuffed the chipmunk into the barrel.  I think some cotten gauze or clothing was wrapped around to create an air tight seal.  "Hey, Pheeb.  Watch this," he said.  Michael set the pvc weapon on the picnic  table.   Aimed straight up into the sky.  Booom.  Shot Mr. Chipmunk straight up into the atmosphere.  Well sealed rodent.  Shot impossibly high.  We lost sight.  Where did he go?  A second later.  "Watch out mom, he is coming straight down. Cover your head.My p"  One in a million chance: direct hit back onto picnic table. 

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