Sunday, April 16, 2006

BAG Day Gun

I never plan on participating in BAG day, yet, every year, a I come into posession of a new gun. I forget what the circumstances were last year, but this year is a bit weirder.

I didn't really buy a gun; it was more of a case of an old guy dying and nobody knew what to do with his guns. There were only two of them, and this was the one that they decided to give to the nearest gun nut they could find.

It's a Mossberg 500 with a standard 5 shell magazine. The peep sights seem to be custom and the sling seems to be stupid. I think a light might be helpful.

Addendum 1: When the chain of custody reached me, I was handed a loaded shotgun in my office. If I would have behaved differently, I would have had large drywall and glazing bills. Fortunately, I checked, rechecked, and rechecked the magazine and chamber.

Listen to Xavier when it comes to gun safety; at the very least, it will save on bills and, at best, it will save lives.

Addendum 2: Who the fuck keeps #7 birdshot in a shotgun like this? I wonder how many people do this? I'd like to hear others' experiences with "shotgun castle guards."

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My house gun is a 12-gauge Mossberg similar to yours, but with wood stock and forend and an old-style "Slugster" smoothbored deer-slug barrel (just under 19" long, with an I/C choke...and no silly peep sight). And yes, I keep mine loaded with birdshot: a standard #6 field load, in my case.

Why? Because I live in a one-bedroom apartment with Sheetrock walls, and birdshot is a lot less likely to penetrate the walls - or penetrate first the felon and then the walls - and endanger my neighbors than buckshot. Besides, from one side of the room to the other, with a maximum engagement range of maybe fifteen feet, there probably isn't a lot of difference in stopping power.

Perhaps you might disagree...but the one time I actually have had to "use" my Mossberg, the drunken fool trying to kick down my front door in the middle of the night wasn't willing to stick around to find out what load I was using. The guy was a former neighbor who was pissed at me for calling the cops on him for beating his girlfriend. One night after getting himself "liquored up" he decided to do something about it. He sobered up in a hurry and left when I chambered a which point the death threats and the banging on my front door abruptly ceased. "Oh shit," I heard, followed by rapidly receding footsteps as he retreated back down the wood deck leading to my front door.

The next day, he profusely apologized to me for disturbing my sleep...and he moved out of the apartment complex within a week.

--Wes S.
"00" Buck.

Mossberg 500.

When I touch it off, I want it to say "I wasn't kiddin' mo' fo'...".

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