When I was a kid, Mom had a little pearl-handled pistol that she kept in her top dresser drawer. I wasnât supposed to know where it was â but I did. And sometimes when Mom and Dad were in the yard I would sneak into their room, take the gun out and play with it because it was prettier than any toy I owned.
I donât know if it was loaded, because I never pulled the trigger. It may have had a safety that would have kept it from firing if I had pulled the trigger, but I donât know. I just pointed it here and there and pretended I was shooting bad guys. I squinted one eye and stuck my other eye into the end of the barrel to see what it looked like down there.