Standing Outside Looking In – by Stephen
She’d phoned, said, “I’ll be there, shortly.”
“Yes, Ma’am.” You never argue with Mrs. Campbell.
I’d expected her call. Over the last few months she’s sold me several of her late husbands toys. Her husband’s name was Percy. Nice fella. Percy checked out, intelligence intact, in his late eighties. He and I got along well. Percy spoke several languages, none flute, and had a deep abiding love for literature, especially science fiction. Percy also enjoyed firearms.
Mrs. Campbell, his wife of over fifty years, did not.
Mrs. Campbell stands four foot nothing. She’s a tiny little booger with coiffed hair and deep green eyes, slim. She’d never step from her home without the best dressed award around her neck. Today she wore yellow. A necklace of pearls, and a diamond to envy. Mrs. Campbell, for eighty odd years of youth, is a cutie pie. If I were twenty years older I’d ask her out. Well, maybe once.
Mrs. Campbell entered the building….”Well, are you ready?”
“Yes, Ma’am.”
She places a thick padded envelope in my hands. It has heft. I like heft. Inside I find a plastic bag, tightly bound. I remove the plastic bag and after a few cuts of knife I find a sweet Pietro Beretta Gardone V-T in .380. By the date code I guessed an early 1960 model. (It later proved 1966.)
I goofed and said, “Nice.”
“Oh, really. Good. How much will you pay me?”
I stalled. “Did this belong to Percy?” She took a seat. I joined her. She turns to me and said, “Where’s your book. Let’s find out how much its worth.”
See what I mean. I goofed.
Again with the stall. “I didn’t know he carried a Beretta.” There was a holster in the bag. Her, “He didn’t. I did.”
Flash back several months – After his death she’d drive to the shop and ask me to step outside and remove this, in her words, ‘thing’ or ‘things’ from her vehicle. She proclaimed a pure hatred for firearms. I’d always purchase her things. Old Savage this, Winchester that….Fudd stuff. She’d really gotten my attention when she said this nice pistol belonged to her.
Mrs. Campbell’s Beretta.
So, me, “I thought you hated firearms.”
“I do. Hate ’em with a passion. They hurt people.”
“And yet….you.”
“Well, a lady must protect herself and Percy taught me how to shoot. He insisted, even when I dropped it each time I pulled the trigger. Stupid thing is loud.”
Mrs. Campbell is a hoot. After a few minutes we settled upon a price. Then, she reached over and gave my upper thigh a good squeeze. I laughed. She stood, all four foot nothing of loveliness, said goodbye, and drifted like a flower towards her car.
Just before the door closed she yelled, “Soon as I find those old things I’ll be back.”
“What things?”
“You know, those things. The things you put into the gun – bullets.”
Stephen
http://dixiecritter.blogspot.com/2014/03/mrs-campbells-beretta.html
man that’s a beauty. she should have kept it,
What a moron, she hates an inanimate object because some actors use it to hurt other people. What about the exponentially more times they are used to save people? And, does she feel the same way about: hammers, screwdrivers, knives, baseball bats, automobiles, fireworks, rope, oars, paddles, electricity etc.?
Hey Bill she was a older frail little – only four feet tall only – ole lady, ya ever think that she may have been thinking that a .38 may be too big for her and that every time she shot it that the gun kicked enough that she dropped it and hurt her hand/wrist? Did ya think of that one Bill? 😉 I mean she did say that in the article ya know
ya know what Dan. your right. Thanks for reminding us to think. 🙂
🙂 , yes Paul, I used to know some sweet old women that had some bid guns that their husband had and they were afraid of them for that same reason. Not that they would be afraid to shoot a intruder but because every time they shot a big gun when they were younger their wrists – or shoulder with a rifle or shotgun – were always sore.
These were 75 yr.s old and older I`m talking now ya know.