Spacetrawler, audio version For the blind or visually impaired, October 13, 2020.
Sometimes it’s more interesting not to know.
Spacetrawler, audio version For the blind or visually impaired, October 13, 2020.
Sometimes it’s more interesting not to know.
He’s lucky we’ve already been through the whole Jabby shtick, because the amount of tempting fate in that last panel might as well be asking for that thing to fuse with his arm and start talking and killing all on it’s own.
He’s already learned the important things: it fires when he pulls the trigger, and it hasn’t shot him … yet.
A horrid thought appears: this is Choans handiwork I guess. What if it is a prototype, and the programming is to go into production.
In ship-to-ship combat…
That could be bad if two ship captains or gunnery officers on different ships had a nasty relationship breakdown, or one is an insufferable *bleep* – with weaponry that senses the base desires of the beings operating it.
Given Spacetrawler, and the fact that Chris reads the comments, it’s almost certain to happen now!
Looks like a CAPTCHA query – Select the images that have feet.
“I know what you’re thinking. ‘It’s just one little guy with a handgun.’ Well to tell you the truth, it is a pretty small gun and I am a terrible shot. But being that this is a Choan Special, that never misses its target and will blow the head clean off the person that happens to be annoying me most at any given time, you’ve got to ask yourself one question: ‘Do I feel lucky?’ Well do ya, punk?”
Chiphu’s resolution reminds me of another time the use of a gun for self-defense came up. In this case it was a hunter, and as he told his survival class, he carried a .38 for protection against bears. He was surprised by a grizzly, into which he emptied the entire magazine. The bear, now irritated, treed him. For three days.
One of the students gasped. “What did you DO?” she asked.
“There was nothing I could do,” the hunter replied. “So I took a nap.”
Sometimes Life deals you a bad hand. And you just have to ride it out. And not wager so much.
That’s called “Bringing a .38 to a bear fight.” You’re going to want something heavier.
I knew another guy who brought a Colt .45 to a wild boar fight. Do you know what happened to HIM?
I can hazard a guess. Back when boar-hunting on foot with long spears was a thing (the Normans loved it), the spears had a crosspiece a little behind the head.
When the boar charged at you, you set the butt of the spear in the ground and attempted to skewer it in the chest. If you missed, the boar would likely rip out your femoral artery with its razor-sharp tusks.
If your spear didn’t have that crosspiece, the skewered boar would run right up the spear and kill you well before it started to become incapacitated: you had to keep it fended off on the end of the spear until it weakened or, more likely, your mates turned up to join in.
A boar’s skull is thick enough to deflect a handgun bullet more often than not, resulting only in a severely pissed-off boar.
I hope your friend survived and recovered.
He did. But he was also treed. Fortunately, he still had his 30-08 with him. The sloped armor of a boar’s forehead that turned a .45 slug (carrying off some meat with it) isn’t as good with fire from above.
By the way, boar meat is extremely gamy and not terribly edible. The way around this is to net your intended boar ahead of time and castrate him. In two weeks the lack of hormones causes the bitterness to exude, and you can have a decent ham or two from him. The boar that my friend killed was not so treated and so had to be left to the woods to dispose of, alas. All he got from it was the story.