I have bought my first gun as a Texan
I have bought my first gun as a Texan
No, it’s not what it sounds like.
When E and I started dressing up the house to get ready to sell
it, we decided to construct a tasteful decoration for a particularly
high nook near the staircase. It’s a wedge-shaped outcropping, about
12′ from the ground level (over which it looks on one side) and
about 4½′ from the mid-level landing of the staircase
(on the other side). We settled on constructing an adornment of the
grass-and-reeds-in-a-big-pot variety, and it looks rather pretty up there.
Albert thinks so too. Enough that he’s now taken to hopping up there
and, rather than merely hanging over the twelve-foot edge (as he did
when it was bare), is now fond of chewing on the reeds and tugging them
out of their display.
The arms race has proceeded thusly: I started with “NO!” and then
moved on to the squirt bottle. Unfortunately, in a blatant
demonstration of advanced real-time evader-pursuer algorithms, Albert
now hides in the shadow of the pot (when viewed from the
4½′ side) and just beyond the range of the meager squirt
bottle (when viewed from the 12′ side).
There are two pieces of information that Albert does not possess:
- Money can be exchanged for goods and services.
- A simple squirt gun with sufficient long-distance strike
capability can be found at Target for 99¢.
Fear my squirty wrath! Or something.