Memoir Monday: He could have been a mafia legend.

Did I ever tell you about the time I took a bullet between the eyes?
It's kind of a funny story, actually.
Now.
So, I was just a kid. I was probably 8 or 9. Somewhere around there. My memory is a little fuzzy about the incident. Probably as a result of the head injury and all.
Anywhatdayisitagain, I was in the kitchen with Mom helping her get dinner ready as was my chore for the day.
Well, every day. It is woman's work, after all. Or so I was told.
My brother, who was 12 or 13 at the time, was outside playing with his new bb gun. He was in the field behind our house target shooting. He had asked to borrow a picture of me earlier that day, but I'm sure it was unrelated.
Again, the memory is a little fuzzy.
AnywherethehellamI, Mom asked me to go call my brother in for dinner.
I skip on out to the field, happy and oblivious to what tragedy is about to befall me.
As I approach the field, I see my brother with his back to me.
I call out to him: "Dave! Dinner!"
As he turns to face me, POW!!!
I get knocked off my feet and I'm on the ground wondering what the hell just happened. I am stunned. My head hurts like a son of a bitch. Of course, in my girly confusion, I have no recourse but to cry.
I vaguely remember my brother taking me into the house in my sniveling state. I think Mom was the one who discovered what had happened and she was not happy.
The details are fuzzy but I remember looking in the mirror after I had calmed down.
There it was.
A bb sized indentation on my forehead, right between my eyes.
Dammit.
That was one hell of a shot.
Looking back, I'm not sure if it was the luckiest shot of his life or if he was just that skilled. I'd really rather not think about that.
It's best to leave some things repressed.