Pretty Deadly In Pink

(My grandfather is a retired police officer and he is very adamant that my sister and I know how to handle guns properly. Since I was five, he and my father have taken me on monthly trips which often end with a trip to the gun range. My sister has just turned five, and it is her first trip to the range. We are inside the range with our ear and eye protection on and Grandpa is doing the same thing with my sister that he did with me every time for the last three years.)

Grandpa: “Okay, [Sister], what is the first rule of guns?”

Sister: “Treat them as if they are always loaded!”

Grandpa: “And the second?”

Sister: “Only point them in a direction if you are okay with everything in that direction being shot!”

Grandpa: “And in this room that means?”

Sister: “The ground, because there is nothing underneath us but ground, and you can’t hurt the ground when you shoot it.”

Grandpa: *chuckles* “That’s true, but where else could we point a gun?”

Sister: *pointing with finger* “That way, down-range.”

Grandpa: “And where can’t we point a gun?”

Sister: “Not up, because you never ever point a gun at God. And not behind us, because the door won’t stop a bullet and we don’t want to shoot Mr. [Range Owner]. And not that way—” *to our right* “—because we don’t want to shoot the lady with the pretty gun—” *the woman in position to our right has a bright pink camo print gun* “—and not that way cause we really don’t want to shoot Mr. [Cop We Know].”

([Cop] has just pushed the button to bring his target in for examination, and he sees my sister pointing at him, and smiles and waves. Then, suddenly, his eyes get very big, he lunges forward grabs us both, pulls us to his chest, turns so his back is to where we were standing, and curls up around us. I hear a man screaming, “No,” a woman shrieking, a loud thud, something hitting the floor, and then my father shouting, “Clear!”)

Cop: *relaxes and stands up* “You two aren’t hurt are you? That was scary, but you were very brave.”

(I see Grandpa has the lady with the pink gun pinned to the wall, and Daddy is handing her gun and its clip to a very embarrassed-looking man. Grandpa lets the lady go, and she and the man practically run out the door.)

Grandpa: “And that, girls, is was a very good example of what not to do.”

(We continued our shooting lesson as normal. For years I didn’t know exactly what happened, but I brought up the story recently and Daddy told me. The lady with the pink gun was apparently there with her boyfriend, who was a regular at the range, and he was teaching her to shoot. Right about the time my sister was pointing at her, he was putting her hands on her gun to show her how to grip it. And when my sister turned to the cop, the lady also turned in the same direction, still holding her gun, and said, “So, I just hold it like this, right?” The “no” I heard was the boyfriend, who tried to grab her wrists and force the gun down. That was when she shrieked, and my Grandpa disarmed her and threw her against the wall. Then Grandpa handed the gun to Daddy and he ejected the clip before saying clear, then picked up the clip and handed it to the boyfriend.)