My son goes to Turkey Shoots. I wish he wouldn’t. I always worry when he does. I worry that he might get shot instead of a turkey.
On his way out the door to go to this year’s Turkey Shoot, I said, “I hope you get a turkey, but don’t get shot.”
Stopping dead in his tracks, he turned to look at me with his eyebrows raised so high, I swear they went off his head—like a cartoon character’s eyebrows do when they’re mystified. With his eyebrows in the air, he asked, “What did you just say?”
Me: “I said I hope you get a turkey but don’t get shot.”
Brad: “Why would I get shot?” He scratched his head.
Me: “Well it’s got to be dangerous with all you hunters standing around in a circle aiming at the pen full of turkeys. With all of you guys blasting…
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Thanks for the reblog beautiful owl lady 🙂
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You’re very welcome beautiful crazy lady! @v@ ❤
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I like this!
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