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When I was 13 I went around my yard shooting a .22 rifle with a scope at every bird and rodent I could find. I killed a bird that was in my bird feeder and the top of its skull exploded leaving a small amount of goo inside of the thing. At this point I realized that I needed to clean all of the corpses up before my parents got home or I would get my ass kicked.
I came across this one bird that was still sort of alive and I was all freaked out so I quickly stomped on it like 40 times until I knew it was toast. As I was doing this my dad's truck came pulling in the yard and I went running for the house, ran upstairs and threw the gun in the closet.
This is when I noticed the guts I had trailed on the carpet.
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"Asking a bomb squad if an old bomb is still "real" is not the best thing to do if you want to save it." - denim
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