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At the tender age of eight, I had developed the unique ability to lay silent for minutes at a time, which is quite a feat for a young boy.
Silently and slowly crawling through the deep grass and tall hedge rows of my family's estate grounds. (A quarter acre lot on the outskirts
of Longview Texas, but I thought it was the size of Montana)
I crested the front yard ditch and willed myself to be silent as I quickly recognized the shape of the GI Joe 5 inch plastic soldiers that I had
set up the night before in the backyard. I knew that at this distance (45 feet), a precision shot that still had the power to knock over the
soldier was unlikely. Contrary to popular belief, a BB striking a plastic soldier does not have a great amount of energy. It won't knock the
target over if the distance is to great, especially if the enemies feet and pedestal have been anchored with an inch of dirt and Granny's
potting sand.
The shot had to be closer. Opening the gate would immediately alert the enemy to my presence and I would never be able to get my one
crucial shot. As I lay there in the damp grass puzzling over my dilemma, I spied another problem that was completely unexpected. The enemy
had put out a sentry! Crud... The sentry hadn't noticed my presence though and seemed to be busy fiddling with a red clay pot and some
local vegetation. I didn't think that this new enemy was very well trained either, because of the hot pink polyester pants that was the bottom
part of their uniform.
Looking up, I saw an alternate route that I hadn't considered before. The side door to the house! Ordinarily, I wasn't allowed to play in
the house but, special problems need special solutions. If I could gain entry to the house, I might be able to line up a shot through the open
back sliding door. I rose to my knees, reached up and opened the door. Around the washer and dryer, through the kitchen I ran at a crouch,
being vigilant because, in Granny’s words "your really not supposed to be running in the house...."
Crawling towards the sliding glass door I took up a prone position under the dining room table and lined my BB gun up towards the
enemy position. But, moving my sights just a few feet to the left... I was looking directly at the sentry, who was now facing away from me and
bent over at the waist, still fiddling with a plant, her hot pink battle uniform defiantly oblivious to my presence.
In a flash, I gripped my weapon tightly, exhaled and squeezed the trigger! BB's are shiny things and in the strong early morning light you can
actually see them sailing out to your target. This particular BB seemed to take an awfully, awfully long time to reach its destination. I credit
it to God giving me a chance to start my guilt and penance early. The shot was perfect though. Impact was made a little lower than intended
but still... One inch above the lower crease on the right buttock. There was no doubt about whether the shot was effective.
Upon impact, Granny bolted upright with both dirt covered hands grabbing for the affected region and a single very loud cry of
"OOHH!!!" escaping from her lungs. Apparently (and I hadn't thought of this) but a BB to the ass at close range feels much like a Bee
sting and if I had been in full command of my faculties I could have ditched my rifle under the couch and sworn innocence. But no. I was
frozen in shock. When Granny turned around to find her tormenter she locked eyes with me, frozen in terror, hands trembling and eyes as
big as dinner plates.
I may have been to slow to move but a lie jumped to my lips so fast that I have been suspicious of my good character to this very day.
"Granny it bounced off of the cinder block in the flower bed!" She continued staring at me through her amber colored yard spectacles and
rubbing her soon to be purple butt cheek. "I'm sorry!" I pleaded. Sure enough when Granny looked from my position and gauged the
trajectory of my BB (astonishingly, good Southern women know how to measure trajectory to this very day) she saw just a few feet away,
a grey cinder block sitting upright with a Boston Fern resting on top.
She extended her arm and pointed her finger at me. "Jesse...(long breath).... Move over to the other side of the yard....(long breath)... And
don't shoot towards people...." With that she turned back around bent over and resumed her work. I obeyed immediately obeyed, gathered
my rifle and went back to the side of the house. As I lay back down to resume shooting I was ecstatic that I was Scott free, but, as I took
aim at GI Joe and his crew again, I saw Granny sneak peaks at me to make sure of my kill zone. She loved me I realized. She loved me. She
forgave me. She thinks I'm slightly psychotic. But she loves me.
Granny hasn't mentioned that episode in 25 years but I think about it from time to time.
Original Writings by Jesse Holland Copyright 2007
Silently and slowly crawling through the deep grass and tall hedge rows of my family's estate grounds. (A quarter acre lot on the outskirts
of Longview Texas, but I thought it was the size of Montana)
I crested the front yard ditch and willed myself to be silent as I quickly recognized the shape of the GI Joe 5 inch plastic soldiers that I had
set up the night before in the backyard. I knew that at this distance (45 feet), a precision shot that still had the power to knock over the
soldier was unlikely. Contrary to popular belief, a BB striking a plastic soldier does not have a great amount of energy. It won't knock the
target over if the distance is to great, especially if the enemies feet and pedestal have been anchored with an inch of dirt and Granny's
potting sand.
The shot had to be closer. Opening the gate would immediately alert the enemy to my presence and I would never be able to get my one
crucial shot. As I lay there in the damp grass puzzling over my dilemma, I spied another problem that was completely unexpected. The enemy
had put out a sentry! Crud... The sentry hadn't noticed my presence though and seemed to be busy fiddling with a red clay pot and some
local vegetation. I didn't think that this new enemy was very well trained either, because of the hot pink polyester pants that was the bottom
part of their uniform.
Looking up, I saw an alternate route that I hadn't considered before. The side door to the house! Ordinarily, I wasn't allowed to play in
the house but, special problems need special solutions. If I could gain entry to the house, I might be able to line up a shot through the open
back sliding door. I rose to my knees, reached up and opened the door. Around the washer and dryer, through the kitchen I ran at a crouch,
being vigilant because, in Granny’s words "your really not supposed to be running in the house...."
Crawling towards the sliding glass door I took up a prone position under the dining room table and lined my BB gun up towards the
enemy position. But, moving my sights just a few feet to the left... I was looking directly at the sentry, who was now facing away from me and
bent over at the waist, still fiddling with a plant, her hot pink battle uniform defiantly oblivious to my presence.
In a flash, I gripped my weapon tightly, exhaled and squeezed the trigger! BB's are shiny things and in the strong early morning light you can
actually see them sailing out to your target. This particular BB seemed to take an awfully, awfully long time to reach its destination. I credit
it to God giving me a chance to start my guilt and penance early. The shot was perfect though. Impact was made a little lower than intended
but still... One inch above the lower crease on the right buttock. There was no doubt about whether the shot was effective.
Upon impact, Granny bolted upright with both dirt covered hands grabbing for the affected region and a single very loud cry of
"OOHH!!!" escaping from her lungs. Apparently (and I hadn't thought of this) but a BB to the ass at close range feels much like a Bee
sting and if I had been in full command of my faculties I could have ditched my rifle under the couch and sworn innocence. But no. I was
frozen in shock. When Granny turned around to find her tormenter she locked eyes with me, frozen in terror, hands trembling and eyes as
big as dinner plates.
I may have been to slow to move but a lie jumped to my lips so fast that I have been suspicious of my good character to this very day.
"Granny it bounced off of the cinder block in the flower bed!" She continued staring at me through her amber colored yard spectacles and
rubbing her soon to be purple butt cheek. "I'm sorry!" I pleaded. Sure enough when Granny looked from my position and gauged the
trajectory of my BB (astonishingly, good Southern women know how to measure trajectory to this very day) she saw just a few feet away,
a grey cinder block sitting upright with a Boston Fern resting on top.
She extended her arm and pointed her finger at me. "Jesse...(long breath).... Move over to the other side of the yard....(long breath)... And
don't shoot towards people...." With that she turned back around bent over and resumed her work. I obeyed immediately obeyed, gathered
my rifle and went back to the side of the house. As I lay back down to resume shooting I was ecstatic that I was Scott free, but, as I took
aim at GI Joe and his crew again, I saw Granny sneak peaks at me to make sure of my kill zone. She loved me I realized. She loved me. She
forgave me. She thinks I'm slightly psychotic. But she loves me.
Granny hasn't mentioned that episode in 25 years but I think about it from time to time.
Original Writings by Jesse Holland Copyright 2007
Shot Granny in the Ass