Summer is starting to bring out the “best” in my redneck neighbors. I’ve mentioned some springtime idiocy, but the summer offers something different.
I’ve been collecting stories about the neighbors — whom Eddie and I have named Serial Killer, Beekeeper, Ghost, Refrigerator Box, The Preacher, Prophetess, Auburn, Professor, Shirtless George, Big Screen, Fish Trapper and Kurt Land — but today’s post is about Mr. Gun. Mr. B.B. Gun.
We live on a small lake and we were enjoying the serenity (Serenity now!) while feeding the geese.
Suddenly, we heard gunshots (which, incidentally, is why we left our last neighborhood, Cracktown).
We look up and see this:
Our neighbor is throwing out fish food, then shooting the fish with his BB gun.
Seriously? It is too much trouble to get out a pole? Why not just skip right to dynamite?
I called the local police department to see if such activity is legal in our area. I got voice mail.
Sigh.
Observe and report 
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