Joe was an avid deer hunter. Not because he particularly liked to hunt, but because he loved venison. When he moved here, he found that our Eastern Whitetails were a different critter than he'd been used to.
Joe didn't drive unless he had to. Said the traffic made him a mite nervous, so he enlisted me to take him to his favorite gun shop to purchase his license and two rounds of .30-30 ammunition for the season.
Not two boxes. Two rounds. In those days, about 55 cents' worth out the door.
Joe insisted that all his ammunition come from the same lot, so the store owner drew his stocks from a box with masking tape on it, labeled in bright, red letters: Joe Smith Only
The third year we went through this little ritual, the gun shop owner had hired a bright, good lookin' young fella to help out during hunting season. He hadn't met Joe yet.
Joe stepped up to the counter and made his request. After completing the license, the lad drew a box of ammunition and laid it on the counter. Joe quickly corrected his error and pointed to his box on the shelf. "It's got my name on it."
The kid dutifully complied and placed Joe's box on the counter. Joe opened it and withdrew his two rounds and handed it back. Puzzled, our boy chuckled and asked him: "Why are you buying just two?"
Joe looked at him...blinked twice...and replied:
"Hell, son. You just sold me the license. There ain't but two deer tags."
That was Joe. We will never see his like again.
Joe didn't drive unless he had to. Said the traffic made him a mite nervous, so he enlisted me to take him to his favorite gun shop to purchase his license and two rounds of .30-30 ammunition for the season.
Not two boxes. Two rounds. In those days, about 55 cents' worth out the door.
Joe insisted that all his ammunition come from the same lot, so the store owner drew his stocks from a box with masking tape on it, labeled in bright, red letters: Joe Smith Only
The third year we went through this little ritual, the gun shop owner had hired a bright, good lookin' young fella to help out during hunting season. He hadn't met Joe yet.
Joe stepped up to the counter and made his request. After completing the license, the lad drew a box of ammunition and laid it on the counter. Joe quickly corrected his error and pointed to his box on the shelf. "It's got my name on it."
The kid dutifully complied and placed Joe's box on the counter. Joe opened it and withdrew his two rounds and handed it back. Puzzled, our boy chuckled and asked him: "Why are you buying just two?"
Joe looked at him...blinked twice...and replied:
"Hell, son. You just sold me the license. There ain't but two deer tags."
That was Joe. We will never see his like again.
