Meagan Claire

Dad sent Mom and I to buy a rifle last week.

He’s going to shoot coyotes, he says.

I’d like to say he’s going to shoot them because they’re horrible scary things that look at me from across the fence when I take Pearlie out. But really, it’s because they’ve been keeping him awake.

For some reason, there was a millisecond concern for payment on the rifle and I piped up, “Well I could have bought it.”

The woman behind the counter scoffed, “Yeah, if you were 18.”

I quipped, “Yeah, I’m way older than 18.”

To which she replied, “I thought you were 15!”

15? Really? Really?

Must have been my brilliant shorts, cowboy boots and no makeup combo.