A Shooter's Christmas

‘Twas a few weeks before Christmas, to the range we did go,
A few buddies and I, our Aimpoints aglow;

At 100 yards, the steel targets were set,
Our hopes were that ricochet, would not be a threat;

At first it went well, our shots were precise,
But the sound of the steel would come with a price;

A couple “Black Rifles”, a Mauser as well,
“We’re all perfect shots, as best I can tell”;

When down a few stands, came a rather loud screech
I turned to my right, replied, “Son of a Beech!!”…..

Away to Bob’s aid, I ran through the grass,
Seems a round of hot lead, had nicked Bob in the ass!

“Bob, would you calm down”, I replied with a smile,
“Swelling will subside, though it may take a while.”

Our holiday shooting had come to an end,
Due to steel targets, and the wound on my friend.

When what did I see, coming down through the fog,
But a miniature sleigh, and a Polymer P-Dog.

With a bag full of targets, it was obvious to me,
We were receiving a visit, from Saint JSMP.

With safety and value, the targets they came,
He whistled and shouted, and called them by name;

“Here’s a Backboard, a P-Dog, a Cube you can use,
If you had shot these, you would have prevented that bruise!”

We shot the new targets, the Saint was SO right,
“Now try these new colors”, he said with delight.

Bob, still bruised, spoke up with a smirk,
“For the CAS Shooter, that Polymer won’t work!”

The Saint responded, so calmly and sure,
“They use our DX-Iron, it’s the ricochet cure!”

The Saint announced that he must move along,
“There are bad habits to fix, that steel is all wrong!”

But I heard him exclaim, as he drove out of sight,
“Stick with the Polymer Bob, and you’ll be alright.”