This is a phrase I hear a lot. 'Don't shoot the messenger. Don't shoot the messenger.' The more I heard it, the more determined I became to shoot a messenger.
As I live in a three-storey house (get me!) with a good view over a car park (alright, don't get me) it was going to be easy to get a clear shot at a postie (my chosen messenger). I borrowed an air-rifle from someone who would prefer to remain nameless and had a bit of practice in the old 'shooting at cans on a fence' style.
When I felt I was ready for the task I had a leisurely breakfast (the postie never arrives that early any more - I remember the days when the post would be on your doormat when you got up) and headed up to the top floor of the house. I opened the window slightly and poked the end of the gun barrel through the gap.
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| Not the actual trigger or finger |
I didn't have long to wait. A postie was heading across the car park towards the post box to my right. I took aim and squeezed the trigger. And missed by quite a distance but the pellet did skip off the tarmac into a parked car and made a satisfying ricochet noise like it does on the telly.
The other effect it had was to make people stop and look at where the noise came from. While postie was stood pondering the ricochet I took another shot, this time grazing his left shoulder. His hand moved to where he'd been hit and he span round to look in my direction.
This next shot had to count. Crack! The pellet thudded into the postie's thigh making him yelp and hop at the impact. 'Yes! That'll teach you for wearing shorts no matter that it's really cold out,' I thought to myself.
My satisfaction was short-lived. I'd been spotted. Maybe the barrel of the gun glinting in the sunlight had caught their eye like it does in films. I heard someone shout: "He's up there in the book depository."
I wasn't going to hang around. I fled out of the back of the house and went to the cinema to hide. The police came in after me though. I shot one but was then apprehended. It turned out that my case never got to trial as I was gunned down two days later by Jack Ruby.
Conclusion One: I may have confused the latter part of my story with somebody else's.
Conclusion Two: Don't shoot the messenger. You could get into all sorts of trouble with the police and/or get shot by Jack Ruby.
Conclusion Three: Seriously. Don't shoot the messenger. You won't get any post for weeks.
Next time: I say boo to a goose.
