Some folks have arrived here from new locations. Welcome! If you’re new you’re probably wondering what the hell is going on. You’ve arrived in the middle of a serialized (and satirical) novel called Attack of the Lesbian Activist Squirrels. (In case you’re easily triggered, hopelessly woke, or looking for Shakespeare, the title should clue you in to what you’ll find and how quickly you ought to click the “back” button.) If you’d like a good laugh please join us. You’ll find the whole story in the proper order at the Lesbian Squirrels Main Page.
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Redneck Ship Of Theseus
The Gatling gun was a sight to behold. Like the ship of Theseus, the poor machine had been torn down and rebuilt, modified, altered, broken, repaired, and “re-imagined” so many times there was hardly an original piece left. It was less a Gatling gun than an idea of what you could build if you had an antique war machine, plenty of tools, a healthy disrespect for personal safety, and too much time on your hands. In its current state it was an unholy abomination of several disparate technologies welded together by Chigger’s old man back in the 1970s. It was equal parts wicked and clever, with a bit of whimsy and the all American soul of chaotic innovation. Originally manufactured in 1869, it was now thoroughly modern… and simultaneously obsolete. The original knurled brass adjustment knobs had been replaced by big Bakelite dials salvaged from an ancient AM radio. The original octagonal barrels had been replaced by parts of several dozen rifles that had been acquired during a three state pawn shop search 50 years ago. The open sites were long gone. A massive hardened tubular laser was bolted in their place; its adjustment knobs were fine thread wingnuts in a welded mild steel cradle. It was powered by a 12 volt deep cycle battery Ed had seized from a trolling motor on a bass boat. The crank for the ring of barrels, all nine of them, had been replaced by an electric motor, also powered by the deep cycle battery. Originally chambered in .45-70 Government, Chigger’s old man had “upgraded” to .300 Winchester Magnum. It was the living breathing embodiment of an armed citizenry, the exact reason politicians fear “fly over country”, a mechanical marvel, and an engineering disaster.
With this beast, Chigger’s dad had won three consecutive titles as the “Northern Idaho Ballistic Tree Felling Champion”. His best time, a record that held to this day, was a completely severed and felled a 24” standing Ponderosa Pine; done at 100 yards… in eleven seconds.
That was before Ed seized it as “a poaching device” during trial runs for a fourth year of competition. In Ed’s defense, Chigger’s dad almost certainly vaporized whatever wildlife that happened to be in, near, behind, or in the vicinity of his creation. Also, there’s nobody on earth, including Chigger, who thought the world was safer when his pappy was in possession of this monstrosity.
Ed knew what he was doing. In less than 5 minutes of handles being turned, belts being fed, electrical cables being connected, and a lot of high fiving with the 4×4 club, he had it ready. It was aimed about 18” above the Audi’s roof. Ed wasn’t sure how tall the drug dealer was going to be so he left it there. Ed, the Task Force, and the 4×4 Club sat down on an array of coolers, cracked open beers (Ed always had beer), and waited. On the device, a single red toggle switch gleamed malevolently. Nothing more than an old Radio Shack switch, it glowed eerily in the campuses weak, flickering, green technology LED outdoor illumination. It was a switch simply brimming with potential energy; as if to say “Flip this switch and watch what happens!”
