FORBIDDEN

For my 10th birthday, I got a BB gun. Before I even had a chance to shoot it off, I was told by my mother that shooting animals was forbidden. All the while, I envisioned waving the rifle around and hitting moving targets. I couldn't wait to get outside and try it out. I lined up beer cans and plastic army men, and fired away at them one-by-one. The neighbor's tire swing made a nice target, as well as a couple of ornaments that adorned his backyard. But, as the days wore on, I became bored. I suppose it was instinct more than anything else that made me grip the rifle and hold it straight up when a robin flew over my head. I didn't think I would ever hit something moving so quickly. Still, I closed one eye, aimed, pulled the trigger and nailed it. The bird fell right in front of the kitchen window and proceeded to flop around wildly. To my horror, my mother was at the kitchen sink doing dishes. I had to decide whether to get the bird out of her view or run in the opposite direction. I dropped down on my hands and knees, crept along the side of the house, reached and snatched it up pronto. The incident went unreported. But, from that day forward, I decided to travel a little further from the house before bagging anymore birds.