On a recent trip to Little Rock, a great friend had the huevos to challenge me to a shooting match.  There was even some smack talking.  Well, we (as in the Queen Victorian “we”) just can’t let such a transgression stand!  The loot for this wager is a case of beer and a foot rub from the loser.

The bet is that he can shoot a tighter group with a .380 pistol than I can with a .45cal at a high rate of fire.  To level the field, I am not allowed to use my hand-build tack-driving competition pistol.  We have to use range-owned guns and cheap ball ammo.  If you know me, you know that I don’t gamble – it just doesn’t do anything for me and I HATE to give money away.   I tried to let him out of it, but he pressed…  The gentleman and scholar who made this gross miscalculation of his shooting abliity is 6’1” and 210+ pounds and the shame of rubbing my tootsies while I drink his beer will last for his entire lifetime, which makes my evil black heart giggle and sing with delight.

I went to the range at lunch today and rented one of their pistols.  I put 8 rounds in the center (size of a quarter in less than 4 seconds at 5 meters (16.4 feet).  I then moved the target out to 10m (32.8’) and put 2 in the center, one a little high and five just below the center – all 16 shots with-in a 3” group circle.  I sent him a taunting e-mail with a phone pic of the pistol and the target, asking about taking his “shooting-vitamins”     heheheheh…