18

So, we started playing guns down in the bush nearby. We used just take cap guns or water pistols with us. They were symbolic. We'd take five minutes to hide, then stalk around trying to find the others. If you saw em, you called out their name and position: ("I can see you Ben - you're climbing the left rock face" "Ahh fuck"). As we got older, by which I mean like 15, a couple of the posse thought it wise to upgrade to Replica BB Guns - imported from China via Queensland. They looked real, or real enough to pass for some Glock 17s and a Desert Eagle. Mad blinging symbolic value.

One Saturday evening, after the sun set and it was too hard to see anyone, we figured we should grab some burgers from the local. We crawled out of the bush and took a short cut across the series of ovals. While the middles were ringed with light, the edges pretty much fell into darkness.

So here we are wandering across the oval, when we stumbled into one of these dark patches. In the comfort of said darkness a bunch of older guys, like 17, were drinking beers on the seats. They made drunken remarks as drunk teenagers do. Words were exchanged... then Ben.

Ben, bless his heart, is the kinda guy that always gets you into fights. He always says the wrong thing at the wrong time to the wrong drunk guy. I've been chased by packs of footy heads wielding club locks because of that man.

So Ben, being Ben, said something wrong, wrongly timed to the wrong drunk guy. SMASH. BEN was swiftly dealt a punch across the face. It all kinda went slow motion from that point forward.

After staggering back, Ben retaliated. Sensing a ruckus, the Bigger Older Sketchy Dudes closed in on us. One of them even smashed his beer bottle against his seat and then wielded it like this big brown jaggered-edged fucking knife. Shiiit.

Our posse kinda just looked at each other: oh yeah, we were about to get well and truly fucked up. (Thanks Ben).

Except Jason.

Jason had this kind of determined grin on his face. Ben was his best friend and still is - like a decade on Ben is his best man at his (Jason's) wedding. So Jason is knowing he ain't about toever let Ben get well and truly fucked up by a pack of VB drinking subhumans. Ever the thinker, Jason reaches inside his jacket pocket -

whips out his Replica Glock 17.

Points it straight at the main Big Older Sketchy Dude.

Slow motion slows down so much it all just stops for a moment.

Freeze frame.

"Put the gun away, put the gun away"

I don't know who said it first but that soon turned into a chorus from us: "put the gun away, put the gun away"*.

We're all thinking that if they realise the gun was fake things were about to get really messy, really quick.

Jason wasn't backing down but, he just kept the gun trained on the Main Sketchy Guy who was just frozen there (hopefully peeing his pants).

He flinched -

and both our respective posses just gunned it in opposite directions.

Of course, being boys, were were all like THAT WAS FUCKING COOL WE COULDVE TAKEN EM FUCK YEAH afterwards.

Ah, the stupidity of youth.

[memories]

Moral of the Story: This is why they outlawed replicas.