And De Fun Don't Done by Robert G. Barrett Read Free Book Online Page A

took one of the pistols from the cabinet and handed it to Les like it was part of the crown jewels and he was showing some poor goose something he’d never seen before and the poor goose should be suitably impressed.
    â€˜That’s a .38 Walther PPK. That’s my baby. Go on, handle it. It’s not loaded.’ Hank gave a little sneer. ‘It won’t bite you.’
    Norton took the gun and held it. It felt snug and comfortable in his hand. It was a good gun alright, but nothing to get a fat over. ‘Yeah. That’s… nice, isn’t it?’ ‘Nice,’ Hank sneered again. ‘And this is a .45 Smith and Wesson. Go on, take it. See what a gun feels like. You poor aussies with your piss ass gun laws. You don’t know what you’re missing.’
    Yeah, thought Les. About ten thousand people a year not being shot; including women and kids. Les held the gun for a few seconds then laid it down next to the Walther; compared to the other gun it was noticeably heavier. ‘Yeah. That’s… great, too.’
    â€˜This is what’s called a Forty-five Peacemaker.’ Hank lovingly stroked the next gun and handed it to Les.
    It was some huge, heavy, long-barrelled revolver; like you’d expect to see Wyatt Earp pull out after he’d beendrinking Red Eye at the Last Chance Saloon. ‘What can I say?’ said Les, and placed it on the table with the others.
    â€˜And this is just a .22 Browning.’ Hank shrugged. ‘It’s a woman’s gun. But it fits nicely inside an ankle holster.’
    Les had a feel of the .22. It was all stainless steel and shiny and compared to the others it was just a baby. Though just as deadly. ‘Yeah, good,’ nodded Les, not trying to look too bored, and placed it on the table too.
    â€˜Now this.’ Hank took down a junky, black, military- looking weapon. With his eyes almost glowing, he hit a catch somewhere behind the rear sight and a tubular folding stock swung out. ‘This is an FNC Assault Rifle. Three-round burst capability or rock and fucking roll if you want.’ Hank swung it around at waist level for a while before handing it to Les.
    It wasn’t all that heavy for its size, with a forty shot, curved magazine underneath and a pistol grip at the back. Les stood up and played soldiers with it for a few moments too. ‘Yeah, fabulous.’
    Hank replaced it in the rack and handed Les another rifle. ‘This is an M14. Betcha ain’t seen nothin’ like that before, pal.’
    Norton cradled the gun in his hands and shook his head. What could he say? The last time he’d seen one of these it was shortened and worked over and he’d shot three terrorists with it. And if it hadn’t been for him and his brother saving the dopey president of the United States and getting rid of the terrorist’s nuclear missile, Hank and the rest of his dopey, gun toting, seppo mates’d probably be at war. You fuckin’ know-all seppo prick. Then, looking at Hank watching him, a sudden and dramatic thought hit Norton. And even though it was going to burn Norton’s arse unbearably, a little tact and diplomacy were now going to have to be the new order of the day.
    â€˜Yeah, that’s great, Hank’ nodded Les. ‘You’ve sure got a great gun collection.’
    Hank’s grainy faced dripped self-opinionated conceit. ‘I knew you’d be impressed.’ He put the M14 back on itsrack. ‘This one here’s called a varmint rifle.’ It was a long- barrelled, bolt action thing with a telescopic sight. ‘I can put a bullet square through the centre of a dime at a hundred yards with that baby.’
    â€˜I’m sure you could,’ said Les.
    â€˜Tomorrow I’ll take you shooting out at the target range. Open your eyes up a bit more. Give you a whole new experience.’
    Oh great, thought Les. That’s all I’m gonna need tomorrow in this