Glock and Pony

Since my shooting range is scheduled to (finally) open tomorrow, hopefully today will be the last Monday Gunday where I phone it in.

However, I still have no real material for today. But since many people have asked me what was in that tactically giftwrapped package -- because everyone seems to know that I have no patience whatsoever and that of course I opened it rather than wait for Christmas -- I figure I'll just show you now.

DERPY HOOVES YAAAAAAYY!!!

Now, to make this relevant to my post's title:   I have acquired some degree of fame/infamy for my pony-themed gun safety visual story "Glockenpony." I don't really know why this is so, but I'm happy to take the credit/blame for it (although, given it unexpected popularity, I now wish I had taken better quality pictures with a less crappy camera -- ah well). 

So yes, guns & ponies are basically 2/3rds of my blog content, and thus I decided that I should try to take a nicer picture of both. 

Glock and Pony. 

It's not as nice a picture as Brigid or Oleg can take, and my hopes for turning it into a blog header seem dismal at best, but still -- not bad for an amateur, right?  And cute, I hope. 

Yes, yes, I know: My gun sucks and she's holding it wrong. 

Bidet Shoot After Action Report

I have been told that yesterday's post was "a cocktease." Um, thank you?

At any rate, I shall stop tormenting everyone's roosters and get on to the meat of the matter. WizardPC has some amazing pictures here, and while I will link to some of them you really should go to his blog post and look at them all.

The Bidet Shoot

After waking up and having breakfast, we (Oddball, The_Jack, Awelowynt and myself) trundled down to the logging camp that would serve as our range. There we met Freiheit, WizardPC, and James & Jim, the father & son who owned the range. Again, my fears were unfounded, as both Wiz & Frei were quite lovely to me and treated me well (even though Freiheit was shocked, the poor dear).

First we unpacked all of the guns and ammunition in a buffet of ordnance that would no doubt kill pearl-clutching anti-gunners:

I regret that there isn't a picture of the pickup with its tailgate full -- and I mean FULL -- of ammo boxes. There was an entire box full of .50 BMG. I thought this was extraordinarily ambitious.

Then we received a brief safety lesson (reiteration of 4 rules, how to call Range Hot and Range Cold, etc), and then it was time to begin the festivities. Since we knew The_Jack was going to shoot his mortar at the end, I thought it was highly appropriate that Freiheit would start things off with his cute li'l Pocket Cannon.

I also regret not getting a picture of this with a toy Pinkie Pie standing next to it. Ah well.

We seeded the range with a variety of targets: sporting clays, silhouettes, metal twirly things and even some small bottles of Tannerite.  I wanted to make sure my Mosin's scope hadn't been knocked out of alignment, so I took aim at one of the Tannerite charges and started shooting. Unfortunately, I couldn't quite tell where I was hitting, so the following exchange happened:

Me: "Hey Awelowynt, can you spot for me?  I can't tell if my shots are high or low."  (This is because the scope is zeroed for 100 yards and the range was only 60.)
Him: "Sure."
Me:  *reloads* *shoots*
Tannerite: *BOOM!*
Me: "WOOOHOOOO!  FIRST BLOOD!"
Him: "... you're a bit low."

We then shot what might be called a metric fuckton of guns.   People were going around like it was a key party, asking "Do you want to shoot my [fill in the blank]?"  Very early on I stated that "My answer to Do you want to shoot one of my guns is always Yes!"   I lost track of how many guns I shot, and sadly I did not get to shoot them all. I know I shot:

• Oddball's Ishapore SMLE and CETME (which was probably my favorite of the tryout guns); 
• The_Jack's KRISS Vector SDP and several of his pistols; 
• Roadkill's [Don't hurt me, I don't know the model] Mauser and revolver; 
• Freiheit's KSG;
• and Awelowynt's replica WW1 Trench Shotgun. I also shot his Henry Lever Octagon .22 rifle using subsonic .22 short that was so quiet and recoiled so little I honestly couldn't tell that I'd shot it.

I especially enjoyed the decoration Awelowynt made on this last one, so I brought out some folks who would appreciate it and had their picture taken with it:

I promised you folks a Glockenpony 2, did I not?

Oh, I also got to shoot a FULLY AUTOMATIC UZI.  That was awesome!  I know that full auto causes a barrel to climb, but I really wasn't expecting that degree of "ride up".  I was better the second time, in a more aggressive stance and fully braced, and I shot the hell out of an old water cooler bottle that was sitting at about 30 yards.

I also made sure everyone who wanted to shoot my toys had the opportunity. I believe the general consensus is as follows:

• The Sub-2000 is a fun gun to shoot, and is well suited to the role of home defense carbine;
• The Sleep of Reason is far nicer than any Mosin-Nagant has any right to be;
• Everyone loved the PMR-30 as a fun little gun that was surprisingly accurate, surprisingly smooth, and made satisfying fireballs. Freiheit even went so far as to write a review of it.
• No one wanted to shoot my SKS except me. 

I also managed to do this with my SKS:

It's hard to tell, but that is a bolt and washer that secured a length of chain to a hanging metal target The_Jack had brought. I, ah, wasn't aware that target was for pistols only, and I, ah, kinda killed it. First it was hanging with both chains, and then a bit later it was dangling with just one, and then it kinda fell to the ground.  Apparently one of my shots hit the bolt square-on and dig a trench out of it, and then the others caused the target to spin and dance such that the other chain failed. Or maybe I shot it too, I don't know.

The good news it was just the bolt and chains that broke, and not the actual steel target, I didn't have to replace it. Jack was a sweetheart and forgave me the chains. What a lovely fellow he is!

After that it was noonish, so we all went to lunch at a local eatery where we shared BS stories and passed around our concealed carry permits, laughing at the horrible pictures. I believe I won the unofficial contest for "If I ever get arrested, this is the picture the news will use."

We returned to the range and, because this was a celebration of Oddball's birthday, we all had cake!

Yes, that's a toilet on the cake.  It's vanilla ice cream with chocolate underneath. Make your own joke.

Yes, we are using a bayonet to cut it. Awelowynt decided that he'd use dry ice to keep it from melting, and so he used an excessive amount of it (20 pounds) to keep it cold. That worked too well -- while the ice cream melted pretty easily in the hot June sun, the chocolate was frozen solid.

There was brief consideration of using the frozen cake as targets, as well as the dry ice.

After this, it was time for the actual shooting of bidets. Now, I had expected something like this:

Instead, we got this:

Which totally makes sense, because we were going to shoot the hell out of it anyway and why waste a perfectly good bathroom appliance, but darn it, I wanted to kill a fanny-flusher. 

Luckily for us, one of the guys (Freiheit, I think) works in home renovation, and so had access to three ratty toilets ("terlets," the in local parlance) for us to perforate. 

The first one disintegrated under a hail of automatic 5.56mm fire. 

We then set up the AR-50 and let the birthday boy have first shot at it. I am pleased to report that it takes two shots to kill a toilet terlet with a .50 cal: one to destroy the tank, the second to destroy the bowl. 

Then I was up with the remaining terlet, and this one had the bidet in it. I killed the hell out of it, too. The recoil was hardly anything, due to the weight of the rifle and the muzzle brake and because I am used to shooting my Mosin-Nagant. The report was impressive, though.

When we called "Range Cold!" and went to inspect the devastation, I was impressed. The bidet was mostly in one piece (aside from having a broken hose) and it had been hurled a distance of two Erin Palettes away from the shattered terlet. I really did measure that: feet at the bidet I assumed the push-up position, and then I moved up and put my feet where my head had been. It really had been thrown two of my body lengths.

(One EP is approximately 5'4" in length.)

After this, I decided that I really, REALLY needed some photographs of the AR-50 with a certain pony.

EAT

A

DICK!

50 Caliber Glockenpony, bitches!

What happened next was perhaps the manliest thing I have ever seen. The owner of the AR-50 was talking some good-natured smack about how if anyone wanted to shoot it freehand, they were welcome to try, har har. Those pictures don't give a good sense of scale, but that damn thing is about 5 feet long (0.95 EPs) and weighs about 35 pounds, but due to the length it feels more like 50. While I could pick it up to carry, it was too long for me to properly shoulder as the recoil pad kept getting caught in my armpit.

But Oddball, being tall and strong, decided he would give it a try. In a kilt, no less. But he didn't have a good target.

I happened to see a lime-green bowling ball in someone's Box o'Targets and I asked, "How about that?"  It was decided that this would make a splendid target.

We set it up, and... well, let's just let the video speak for itself.




Yes. That is a man in a kilt free-handing a 5', 35 lb rifle and killing a bowling ball at 60 yards. You're welcome, Internet.

That's a heck of a trophy. I believe he took a chunk home with him.

Then we had the closing ceremony where The_Jack fired off his mortar (sadly, no video of this).   It was ... substantially louder than Freiheit's cannon.

After that, we cleaned up the broken pieces of terlet (which was a pain), went back to our hotel rooms, and took showers as some of us (myself included) were suffering from heat exhaustion. Wiz & Frei left for home, but the rest of us went out to dinner with Mr. & Mrs. Roadkill.

Sunday morning came too soon; we were all having a blast and no one wanted to leave. I took it as an excellent sign that, after spending so much time in each other's company, none of us wanted to stop talking at breakfast when we needed to vacate our rooms. And then, after packing up and checking out, we were still BSing in the parking lots.

Group pictures were taken; hugs were handed out (mostly by me); goodbyes were said and we reluctantly went out separate ways.

The Bidet Shoot was an UNQUALIFIED success! Much fun was had by all.  Special thanks to:

• Lucky Gunner (official sponsor of Bidet Shoot 2013) for providing us with ammunition and a bidet;
• James and Jim Cook, whose range we used;
• Charlie Rose, who served our country with distinction and in whose honor the range was named. 

Next Year:  Bidet Shoot 2 -- Flaming Chainsaw Boogaloo!

Lead-Up to the Bidet Shoot

Now that I am finally all caught up with unpacking, reading blogs and cleaning my guns, and people have emailed/linked their movies and videos, I can give everyone a proper AAR of the Bidet Shoot.

Let's pick up where I left off, which was Thursday morning.

Countdown to the Bidet Shoot: Day 2 (continued)

I picked up my rental car, which was a Ford Fusion. It immediately endeared itself to me because of the following characteristics:

• Electronic Everything, with a nifty HUD and controls on the steering wheel. 
• Interior gadget illumination was a pleasing cool blue instead of annoying orange. 
• Nifty interface that told me how long I'd been driving, what my fuel efficiency was (about 31 mi/gal, if I recall correctly), and how many miles until I ran out of gas. 
• A trunk so large I could fit a 50" long,  two-gun wide hard case diagonally inside it! And there was lots of room for other crap, too. 
• A glittery black paint job!  It managed to be both goth and pony at the same time. I immediately named it the Princess Lunamobile. 

The Lunamobile was a pleasure to drive, and I was sad to have to return her to the rental place. While this is not meant as a full endorsement of the vehicle, as I do not know how it would perform long-term, I wish to point out that I drove it for approximately 1600 miles (I didn't write down the odometer reading, sadly) and it performed flawlessly.  And like I said, the trunk could accommodate an encased Mosin-Nagant. 

I detoured to Ocala to pick up some ammo from a friend who sadly wasn't able to make it -- a couple boxes of 7.62x39 for my SKS and an unknown amount of  loose 9mm (I want to guess between 250 and 500 rounds) -- and then headed north. 

Let me just say that navigating through an Atlanta suburb at 10 pm, trying to find (via printed-out directions) a house I've never seen, is not fun, y'all.  Still, a grateful shout-out to Johnny V and his lovely wife for letting me crash in their nerdroom:  I slept surrounded by Marvel Universe action figures. 

Countdown to the Bidet Shoot: Day 1

After overnighting in Marietta, I left Georgia and entered Tennessee, where I had lunch with Oleg Volk in Nashville. 

Okay, I might as well get this out of the way now:  Oleg Volk Oleg Volk, I am friends with Oleg Volk.  I don't want to seem like I'm name-dropping or anything (even though that's exactly what it sounds like, I'm afraid); I just really like the fellow and he seems to regard me in equal esteem. 

Anyway, we had a wonderful lunch of Pad Thai and he put my fears to rest by making this simple point: "Women without personality have to make friends solely through sex appeal.  You, however,  have managed to make people love you without ever having seen you." I thought that was awfully nice of him. 

He also gave me some .22LR and 7.62x54R to shoot. Given the current scarcity of .22, I am tempted to sell it on eBay. 

So boldened, I continued my drive for Benton, KY. 

After many more hours of driving, lots of cursing at poor directions and finally being navigated in to the hotel via cell phone, I finally met my merry band of miscreants: Oddball, The_Jack, and Awelowynt.  Despite my initial fears, they did not run in horror at the devastation that is my face. In fact, were all quite lovely to me and immediately adopted me as one of their own.

What I found funny is that all of them were quite tall and broad: they had at least a full foot and about 100 pounds on me. I really felt like the Little Sister of the Gun-blogosphere (emphasis on little) surrounded by her large, burly big brothers. 

Safety: I had it. :D

After making myself presentable with a shower and a change of clothes, we met up with Roadkill and we all went out for dinner. After-dinner festivities involved a rather unexpected session of show-and-tell as most of the boys, lacking a large trunk capable of holding their hardware, brought their boomsticks up to their rooms. Naturally, this resulted in me having to bring mine up as well, and we all oohed and ahhed over each other's pretties.

Apparently I am becoming "that knife person" among my gunnie friends, because every time I see an improper blade I have to fix it. You see, Awelowynt  had a nifty bayonet for his equally nifty trench shotgun, but it had no edge on it whatsoever.  As in, there was a millimeter of thickness where the cutting edge should have been. (This is likely because it is a replica.) I asked him if he wanted it to be functional and he said "Sure, why not," so I immediately pulled out my Speedy Sharp and EZE-Lap and went to work. 

Thanks to Cheaper Than Dirt for this picture. 

Cutting a proper edge into it was more work than I had energy for, so I had to make to with just sharpening the tip. It's still not a proper bayonet, but it's suitably stabby that it might make a decent spear.

Immediately after that, Oddball asked me if I would take a look at his CETME bayonet. This was much easier to sharpen because it once had a proper edge. 

Thanks to Liberty Tree Collectors for this picture. 

I could understand why he asked for help, as it felt like it was made from a tough high-carbon steel. Once again, I was again grateful for the Speedy Sharp. This time, I was able to give the bayo a proper working edge. Victory!

After that, we all went to sleep as we had a big day ahead of us. And because this post is getting too big, I think I will give the shoot itself its own entry. 

Home again, home again

Jiggety jig.

I had expected, foolishly, that I would have the time and ability to update my blog during the Bidet Shoot. This turned out not to be the case, as I was kept busy until Saturday evening. I even had plans to write a long Monday Gunday post about it, but today was spent unpacking and doing laundry and generally catching up on missing 4 days of family life.

So instead, I'm going to milk this sucker for as many posts as I can wring from it.

EXECUTIVE SUMMARY:  I had a great time.

And now, I have to do my laundry, finish cleaning my guns, and take a shower.

On the road

Countdown to the Bidet Shoot: Day 2

At noon today I will pick up my rental car, load it, and be on the road.

I've been so busy that I haven't read my blogroll since Tuesday.

No one do anything fun until I get back, okay? And try to keep from burning the place down.

WNW: Yes, my week has been like this

Countdown to the Bidet Shoot: Day 3

Fortunately, so far I seem to be the blonde and not the brunette for once.

Juggling Chainsaws

Countdown to the Bidet Shoot: Day 4

This post will be brief as I've had a hell of a day and I have to get up early tomorrow. Therefore, you get bullet points.

• Dad's car died -- suddenly, dramatically -- last week, and so he took the entire week off while it was getting looked at this. This has increased the stress level in the house significantly as dad is one of those crotchety old Jews who isn't happy unless he's miserable and complaining. 
• Also, it turns out he has Parkinson's. Yay.
• Those two points came together today when mom had to drive dad to his appointment in her car, and then run errands, and she missed her nap. A napless mom is a cranky thing. 
• Topping it off, the fellow with whom I was going to carpool up to the Bidet Shoot told me the following: I dropped off my car at the MB dealership this morning for a pre-trip oil change. The check engine light came on the other day so I told them to check that out as well, assuming I needed an O2 sensor or spark plugs or some other minor stuff. They just called to let me know the balance shaft bearings are kissed, and they're causing timing chain slap, thus the engine popped codes. Bottom line, $5,400 for the repair, and about a week. If I drive it to KY we're going to be sitting on a grenade. They can't get it fixed in time, and I'm not sure I want to dump that kind of cash into it anyway. I may have to buy a new car.
• This is me, freaking right the fuck out. 
• I'm usually pretty good in a crisis, but when I am stressed I cannot do any sort of math, and logistics is math over time. 
• After having a nice freak-out, I lit the Erin Signal and tapped the Internet Hivemind for help. Got lots of good recommendations, and ended up renting a car via Priceline for $14 a day. Hopefully they'll let me use my NRA discount and coupon for a free weekend day, which would further drive down the price. 
• The big problem is time. It's a 13 hour drive from Daytona to Land Between the Lakes, and while I could do it in one stretch, it would require me getting up at shitfuck o'clock to do so and I'm just not functional until 10am and two doses of caffeine. 
• I think it's smarter to do the trip in two parts. I'm picking the car up at noon Thursday and I'm due in KY at 6pm Friday. 
• It looks like Atlanta is approximately halfway in between. I have highly tentative plans to crash at a friend's place in Marietta. If any of you are in the area and don't mind being my backup plan, please leave a message. 
• And now I'm off to bed, because tomorrow I have to do my usual volunteer work at the church, and then drive my father around town like I'm a goddamn chauffeur, and then pack like a lunatic so I will be ready for Thursday. 
• I swear to God, if any of you assholes light my chainsaws on fire, I will fucking shoot you. 
• ZZZzzzzzz.

The Bidet Shoot, sponsored in part by...

Countdown to the Bidet Shoot:  Day 5

As I began to ponder the logistical quandaries of attending my first-ever blogshoot, I came to the undeniable conclusion that holy crap I cannot afford this. And yet, I still wanted to go. I wanted to go really, really badly. In fact, I wanted to go so badly that, out of sheer desperation, I tried something which I was certain would not work:  I asked for corporate sponsorship to attend.

But before I asked, I had a good long think about who, exactly, I should ask. I didn't want to ask a company whose products I had reviewed, because that would make it seem like they were paying me for a good review, and it might compromise my objectivity in later reviews. But I couldn't very well just ask a company who didn't know me, because the result would likely be either deafening silence or "Go away, kid, you bother us."

And then I had a notion. This notion said "Hey, Erin, you happen to know a company that likes you enough to ask you to review something, but doesn't actually make those things themselves. They're just a clearinghouse.They don't care if you like or hate the stuff they sell."  I thought this was a great idea, and so I asked Lucky Gunner for sponsorship to attend the blogshoot, figuring they would say no.

They said yes.

Look, I'm as shocked as you are.

I thought for sure they would have said "Sorry, Erin, we really don't see what's in it for us," but they didn't. Instead, I was given some money for food, gas, ammo and a hotel room. In addition, they are donating some .223 ammunition and -- get this -- an actual bidet for us to shoot.

All because I asked.

No, I still don't get how it worked.

Anyway, after I picked my jaw up from the floor, I asked what I needed to do or say to pick up my end of the deal. Did I need to blog about it? Hand out tee shirts to the participants? Otherwise debase myself in some way?

"Get us some footage of you guys blowing the crap out of the bidet," I was told. "That's all."  Apparently, "For the lulz" is an acceptable reason for a tax write-off.

So I want you all to know that me writing this, right now, is completely voluntary. The gang at Lucky Gunner has been incredibly generous to me, and has enabled a bunch of weird gunnies to realize their fetish of demolishing innocent bathroom appliances via high-caliber means. Plus they gave us ammo, which is probably worth its weight in gold at this point.

And so because of this, I'm going to be running a commercial banner for them for a while as a means of saying "Thank You."  It's the least I could do under the circumstances.

Some of you may think I've sold out. I disagree, as I've taken great pains to acquire a sponsorship that is compatible with my ethics as a blogger and a reviewer. However, I cannot stop you from thinking this way. If you truly feel I have sold out and compromised my integrity, then I direct you here.

Monday Gunday: Some Bullet Points

See what I did there?

Point One:  It's official, I am indeed going to the Bidet Shoot. I will talk about this more in another post, but I want to assure everyone that, barring tragedy, I'm going to be there (and God have pity on you for that). I've got hotel reservations, I've got my carpool lined up, I've got offers of extra ammo... THIS IS REALLY HAPPENING. 


Point Two:  Someone has finally painted (well, stained actually) a Mosin-Nagant pink, and despite my threats, it wasn't me.

The proper name for this color is "Cherry Blossom," and it can be found at Lowe's. 

This absolutely lovely piece of work (and I mean that sincerely, not sarcastically!) was made by a fellow named Gordon Heying specifically for his wife. He did it to "infect" her with Mosin-itis. Well done sir!


Point Three:  Friday before last, I took a 12 year old boy shooting for the first time. He's a friend of the family, and is of the age where he is taking an interest in things like girls and guns. I can't help him with the first, but I could with the second, and his parents trust me enough to take him without going along themselves.  This is more important than it sounds, because the mom is very gun-phobic, and so I'd have to work around his father's schedule if there was to be parental supervision (as well as the awkwardness of "Well, I can pay his range fee, but not yours.")

Anyway, this was a big deal for me, and I was honored and flattered. On the drive up to the range I made sure that my little buddy knew the Rules of Gun Safety, and I briefed him on how the range worked. I also made sure he knew that the Range Safety Officers were to be OBEYED.  Since he is a Catholic, I used the analogy "Listen to them like you would a priest in a church."

I needn't have bothered. This kid was on the ball.   I expected a certain amount of horsing around or not paying attention, but he was 100% focused and professional. The muzzle never ever went anywhere other than downrage, he listened to all range orders, and was generally fantastic. I would trust this 12 year old with a firearm more readily than I would many adults I know.

We started with my .22 pistol at 7 yards. I showed him how to load it, how to do a Weaver stance, how to hold it, the whole thing. POP POP POP, all shots in the black. Then, once he figured out how to aim it properly, he got down to some serious shooting and made multiple bullseyes.

I decided he needed a bit more of a challenge so he wouldn't get bored, so I repaired the target and moved to the 15 yard line. This was more difficult for him (naturally), but soon enough he was breathing properly and squeezing off shots. The boy is far less jumpy-fidgety than I, and what he lacks in experience he makes up for in concentration and steadiness of hands.

The day was getting late, so we put the pistol away, moved to the 25 yard line, and brought out my .22 bolt-action rifle. Again, I showed him how it worked and set him up.  This is after about 100 rounds, using a bipod and a scope at 3x magnification.

That is one hell of a shot group, folks. That's great for an experienced shooter, and for a first-timer it's astounding. Hell, I didn't shoot that well the first time! If he can just shift that group half an inch left, he will be amazing.

I'm not even jealous that he's going to shoot better than me one day. I'm just going to claim partial credit for being his instructor and take pride from that.

Glockenpony

You should blame WizardPC for starting this.  You can blame me for the name, though.

And for what follows. And for being the a main contagion for ponies within the gun community.

Okay, go ahead and blame me...

Once upon a time, in the land of Equestria...

... three young ponies came across a strange object near the Everfree Forest. 

"What is it?" asked one of them. 

"It looks scary!" said another. 

"What should we do with it?" asked the third.

"Let's get Twilight Sparkle!" the first pony said. "She'll know what to do!" 

The other two thought this was a fine idea, and so they returned to Ponyville in order to find Twilight.
 

The three ponies found Twilight Sparkle at Rarity's boutique, where she was giving Twilight and Rainbow Dash a "sparkle makeover". All three of them agreed to come see this scary object.  

 

"Stay behind us, girls!" said Twilight. We know how to handle monsters." Cautiously, the three brave ponies approached to investigate.  

 

Twilight smiled when she saw what it was, because she had read about these objects in  her studies at Princess Celestia's School for Gifted Unicorns.

It was known as a Glock, and while it was believed to possess terrible power, Twilight also knew that it would not harm them if it was not provoked.

Still, she needed to make sure the other ponies would not injure themselves with it. She climbed on top of it and began telling the others how to make it safe for everypony.

First, she pressed the magazine release with her hoof while directing the others to remove it. Rainbow Dash provided the muscle while Rarity supported it with her ponykinesis. 

Once the magazine was a safe distance away, the next step was to lock the slide to the rear. This was a difficult task that would take the cooperation of all three ponies! 

Rainbow Dash pulled on the slide with all of her might, while Twilight helped with her own ponykinesis. When it was all the way to the rear, Twilight engaged the slide lock. Meanwhile, Rarity caught the cartridge that was ejected, gently lowering it to the ground. "My, how shiny it is!" she thought. "I must use this in an ensemble!"

Telling the other ponies that it was now safe, Twilight did what she does best: Lecture!  She instructed the young fillies on what a Glock was, how it worked, and how they were never in any danger because they never touched the trigger. 

 

The fillies were relieved that they had done the smart thing by telling a responsible adult what they had found, and they gladly listened to Twilight's lesson. 

Meanwhile, Rarity and Rainbow Dash got into in argument over who would take the shiny cartridge home.  

The End.