Many years ago, the Missus bought what was considered a cute Christmas ornament: a singing country Santa. It was fun for a little while but after the 100th time listening to the same song, I developed a hatred for the bastard.
The doll eventually ceased to function, but rather than throw it away, we kept it because I had promised myself to shoot the dammed thing whenever I had the chance.
So, I tested the upgraded 10-22 just now. 10 rounds without a hiccup.
Country Santa is dead.
I haven’t shot the shotgun in a while. I figure a mag full of birdshot to test functionality may be in the future books.
Ohhhhh crap…. this is how those stories ALL begin… you will wake up for no apparent reason, at 2 a.m, the room will be totally silent and still…. then you see, at the foot of the bed, the shattered Santa, slowly hobbling toward you, a butcher knife in his dangling hands…..
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