The Great American Bomastic Part 3

I was five years old when my Paw Paw took me down deep into a place called Elk Holler so that he could get some gravel for the walkway he was constructing for his and my Granny, Maggie's home. It was a beautiful day and the Sun shown brightly in the sky. Elk Holler is so deep though that the Sun only has a few minutes in the day to pester you in the summer heat. We arrived at the spot where Paw Paw was going to obtain a little gravel and I immediately headed for the creek which was about twenty five feet away from Paw Paw as he dug a little gravel from the side of the road. I became lost in trying to snatch up lizards and torment crawl fish and such. Suddenly from behind me I heard a man's loud voice using very foul language and I turned around to see a man snatch Paw Paw's big ass solid steal shovel from his hands and in one fluid motion bring that thing up and then down right directly onto Paw Paw's forehead. I heard Paw Paw grunt, he staggered just slightly, and then I watched as he calmly took two steps back, reached into the cab of his old Ford truck and pulled out his .38 caliber revolver. In one fluid motion he had that gun looking his attacker right between the eyes...click,click,click. Click, click, click and the man that hit my Paw Paw stood with drooped shoulders and a head hung low. He knew that he should have been dead right there and I suppose that was the first time I ever saw a man truly defeated. The man's boy had run on to the front porch of their house with a deer rifle, but one look at his father and the boy kept his rifle at order arms. I don't know how, but I kept my stuff together pretty well and approached Paw Paw and asked him if he was ok. Paw Paw calmly looked me in the eyes and with blood pouring from a massive laceration on his head said, "come on squirt, it's time to go." I'll never forget coming out of that holler in that old Ford truck with my Paw Paw bleeding profusely and fighting hard for consciousness. The road down to Elk Holler is one bendy bird and it was one wild ride coming out of that place. It seems that the night before my father had cleaned Paw Paw's revolver out of kindness (probably the kindest thing my father ever did) and forgot to put the bullets back in it. Terrible things should have come of me down in the holler that day, but I have no doubt that the Good Lord has always been with me. Just another day of living the life of an American bombastic.