Monday, November 23, 2015

The Case of the Wayward Bullet

One sleepy, quiet afternoon late in October, a large-caliber rifle broke the still air with a sharp crack. The bullet left the barrel of the firearm without fuss and traveled gracefully through the countryside, spiralling majestically as it passed over a highway, through a row of trees, and into the quaint little home of an equally quaint little lady.

I had known absolutely nothing about the bullet, the house, or the little lady until my mom sent me a text two weeks later with the message: "Is it true a bullet went thru [Sweet little lady]'s house into her living room. Did you make it right with her?"

I was flabbergasted. Bullet? House? Little woman? Reparations?? I drove straight over to the woman's home to investigate. The sweet little lady was home and invited me in. I introduced myself, briefly mentioning who my parents and grandparents are so she could accurately place me. I then explained where I lived and that I had just heard about a stray bullet. She nodded her head and said, "Here, I'll show you."