Steve always had a variety of weapons lying around the house and with Steve being an alcoholic, I was never quite comfortable with this. He kept a loaded pistol in the desk drawer, a loaded 12 gauge shotgun behind his bedroom door, and his crossbow with a sight on it was always ready to be fired. I felt like I had a liquored up version of Elmer Fudd as my roommate.
I came home one day and Steve was sitting out on front porch smoking a cigarette and he had the crossbow leaned up against the door. I looked at him and I asked "Well, is it duck season or rabbit season?" He didn't catch the Looney Tunes reference. His answer was "I am going to shoot that dog that has been getting into the garbage." One of the neighbor's dog's was raiding the garbage on a nightly basis.
When Steve drank, he was annoying as hell but he usually kept the stupidity to a minimum. I said "Steve, you are not going to shoot the dog. It is not the dog's fault the owner is an inconsiderate idiot." He ended up putting the crossbow up. I don't think Elmer Fudd ever needed a babysitter.
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