So my Father called me last Sunday…
Father: Hey son, do you have a .410 shotgun I could borrow. The moles are back in force and a 12 gauge is a bit much.
Me: Indeed I do; would you like a long gun or a pistol you could attach to the John Deere while you’re mowing the lawn?
Father: I prefer a long gun so I can walk up on their holes and shoot them while they’re digging: I can see them pushing up dirt. The shot might not reach them but the percussion wave has a funny way of making them die. Did you end up with Mom’s shotgun?
Me: Yes and no. Grandma left the gun to Mom and then she gave it to me. Do you want me to bring it out to you?
Father: Is it 2.75” or 3” full? I need to know which ammo to buy.
Me: It’s 3” full and I’ll bring you a box of shells with it, you don’t need to buy anything.
Father: Well OK, that would be great. Do you need any firewood?
Me: I’m fine on kindling and Fir but running a bit low on Oak if you have any to spare.
Father: I can hook you up and not even notice.
Me: Cool, I’ll stop by next week and drop off Grandma’s shotgun. It’s the one she used to shoot rattle snakes with basking in the sun under her clothes line.
Father: Oh yeah, I remember that.