I yelled for the wife to toss me her .45.
You had me at that part....
Nah...go for center of mass every time...especially with a pistol.BTW, I was aiming for his eyes.
Two solid chest hits with 230 grain JHPs (Speer Gold Dots) and he is still around and .
I'm not surprised. Those fuckers strap themselves to rockets regularly, and somehow manage to live...
Now then, I can easily understand why it should puzzle you that a person of my intelligence, I.Q. 207 super genius, should devote his valuable time chasing this ridiculous road runner, this bird that appears to be so skinny, scrawny, stringy, unappetizing, anemic, ugly and misbegotten. Ah, but how little you know about road runners. Actually, the road runner is to the taste buds of a coyote, what caviar, champagne, filet mignon and chocolate fudge are to the taste buds of a man."[Phrog], I think you're missing the point here. It's not that Wile E. Coyote wants to eat, necessarily, or that he wants to eat a roadrunner. What he wants to eat is that particular roadrunner. It's very existential."
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