Zen and the art of shooting, part 2

Lissa, thought you’d enjoy this one

I love shooting this gun. I take some crap for the reason that the Glock is the trusty, reliable mini-van of semi-automatic 9mm pistols a.k.a. totally not a sexy sport car kind of pistol. But who doesn’t like a gun that shoots well? There was one thing in particular that I didn’t like about shooting that Glock: for some reason with this particular gun, I kept getting plunked in the forehead with hot brass. Every. Single. Round.

(Bang)
“Ow.”
(Bang)
“Ow.”
(Bang)
“Ow.”

White Mike (standing about 5 yards back from the firing line): What’s she sayin’?
Mark (laughing): The brass keeps hittin’ ‘er on the head!
White Mike: (high pitched girly laughter. and yes, he does laugh like a girl)
Me: Is he – are you laughing at me?
Mark: are you gonna stand there yappin’, or are you gonna shoot the damn thing!
White Mike: (more high pitched girly laughing)