Guns and Roses

Took the dog for a late-afternoon walk around the pond and ran into a couple of guys, one of them armed with an automatic rifle, the other trailing the odor of weed. The guy with the gun said hi in a friendly way. I returned fire with a fake smile and a small look of disapproval that he could easily dismiss. I wanted to feel as if I’d stood up to him without getting my head blown off. It’s a familiar gesture around here, what with all the lunatic four-wheelers, dirt bikers, hunters, drinkers, drug dealers, and hot rodders.