A rabbit crawled into my head this morning and told me the tale of a young Rabbi named Piffle... then he licked my nose and I died.
I hate when that happens
The Mert and I stand in the window.... slight wind from the east, maybe 6 mph, the curtains flutter, but not enough to reveal us, humidity low, visibility good, temperature 75 the gun is cool in my hand. The Mert scans the street, purring softly. Time passes the gun and I are one... The Mert turns his head to me and merts. I nod and take from my vest pocket a single 30-30 round and slide into into the breech of the gun... the bolt in well oiled and the action slides forward and clicks home with litle effort. The caps come off the scope and drop to the floor spinning like two coins, I take a deep breathe and raise the rifle. As the gun comes to my shoulder I see the Mert rubbing his paws together in anticipation, Ive never seen him like this, the excitement coming off him is thick and cloying, it instills in me the desire to finish my task and please The Mert.... you DONT want The Mert on your bad side. The scope is at my eye now and i scan the street, there is my target... another deep breathe, I can hear The Mert shaking and making a noise I can only descibe as a giggle, though that cant be. Slowly squeeze the trigger... altitude, wind taken into consideration, BOOM the rifle rocks back against my shoulder, the noise deafening in the small room.... I bring the scope back up to my eye and check my target... direct hit, Ed Asner is no more... The Mert merts questioningly, "its done" I say, The Mert purrs and walks from the room and in the doorway turns to look at me as if to say, "you are done.... for now" I bow my head and know there is nothing for me to do but obey the will of The Mert, I put the rifle away and head for the getaway car and drive to the safehouse... and wait.
Bandwidth is the space the bands i have holding my hair in a bunch take up in width!!!!