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Date: Thu, 24 May 2007 01:35:42 +0800
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From: "Blanche Ruiz" <Blanche@sds-consulting.com>
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To: "Sam Pedro" <sales@soundsgoodmusic.net>
Subject: Ring Ring it's Blanche again.
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to make it feel part of your body. Like belongs to you and you love it.
this." And the old man would raise 30.06 and, seemingly sighting, pull off
half dozen shots that would bottles and glass chips ten feet high the air.
Young Sam Gregory the sharp report of the guns; hated the sight of the
bottles flying; even though he did try, could never get the hang of it. The 
man and the boy would stay the woods until the of his grandfather's plaid
mackinaw, in which he kept of .22 caliber shells, was empty and they would
trudge back to the house. And the old man notice that the boy was upset his
failure and would clap large hand on his and say, "Some ain't maybe cut out
firing guns. But that mean you aren't worth lot. can do good in the world in

own way. That's why we were here." And young Sam would hope was the end of
target practice, but Saturday, the old man would up to the living rack and
take down the rifles again their regular foray the woods. As he grew the boy
began to all the books he could find on and handguns. With money earned he
bought himself rifle. He never learned his grandfather's secret making the
rifle feel of his body, but he learned 
shoot by using telescopic and mechanical tricks. He developed gadget would
automatically alter the weight of trigger pull on gun, so that even if did
jerk it while firing, it be too late to have any efiect the bullet was
already on its Later, he devised wrist to help marksman hold heavy without
wavering or swaying. made his own guns. And all the he hated guns and
shooting, but in the back of mind kept him 
it, because he wanted prove something to his grandfather. After school, the
first thing he was new kind of whose slug fragmented. However, other
fragmentation shells that scattered in directions, the Gregory shell
fragmented in steady predictable pattern so that when fired any target, one
of the pieces slug was sure to the target down. It was years since his had
died and Gregory was living on the farm, still it himself, when Sam showed
one weekend with box of 
new shells and challenged him shooting match. The old man now in his
seventies. was still big and strong looking, but young Sam, the smell of
seemed to be him, the feeling that this giant of man had already been by
life's lightning and was waiting to die. Wordlessly the two men walked into
the woods. The concession to the change in was that on this trip young