Lucky enters the shooting range, ready to work to become a deadly shot. After slapping a messy wad of cash on the table, he proceeds to the range without talking.  Working long and hard at these skills he shoots the Penguin shaped targets at the other end.  After five hours he finally takes a break to order some scotch.  Taking off his safety glasses, Lucky downs his glass all at once and walks back to the range.  Just after he squeezes the trigger once more he yells and jumps around for a little bit.  He quickly walks over to a friendly face in the crowd, and jmbrust87 immediately notices his

"Bet you can't hit the bulls-eye three straight times"

...immediately notices his bloodshot eye. 

"Probably not anymore.  Gotta be more careful or I'll end up at the bottom of the ocean of my own accord, know what I mean?  Can't even shoot a gun without almost pokin' an eye out."

Lucky sits back and lights a Lucky Strike by match.  Stretching out, he orders another drink and sizes up the crowd. After sitting, looking a little uncomfortable for a while, he gets his drink and downs it at once, promptly ordering another.

"Ughh...maybe I should just give up training with a rifle for now.  It's gonna make me sterile soon."

Lucky explains how the rifle had kicked back into his eye, causing him to fall, while his rifle fell square on his jewels.

:Ambles in notices the two over along the far wall, but tries to do his own thing at first.  After paying, he tries to pick up a Tommy Gun near the firing counter, but drops it dives away yelping as bullets spray around in all directions.  He basfully approaches the pair:

So, uh....got any tips?

Lucky sizes Cosmo up, and deciding he's not a threat, yet, accepts his company.

"Do I look like I have any tips?  The best I got is not to shoot yourself, but I didn't do a whole lot better than that."

Jeff turns and looks at the crazy looking man witht he weird fro and says,

For you, start putting tar on your palms. Other than that, just hold into the trigger if you ever get in trouble with one of those.

:Notices for the first time the eye which is quickly swelling and turning dark and the peculiar, emasculated way in which his new friend stands:

Well, not shooting yourself is step one, anyway.  I nearly failed just at that.  They should make you get a license to carry one of these things.  Guess I might as well have another go.  I'd better start with something smaller this time, though.

:Chooses a small pea-shooter and begins to fire at the target, tearing the corners off of the page:

Better.  But not great.  I guess it just takes a little time.

Lucky's pain finally receding, he starts sipping on his scotch, enjoying it rather than tossing it back. His eye is now huge and black, useless, for all purposes, until the swelling goes down. He is visibly uncomfortable with this weakness, and keeps looking around the room with his one good eye.

"Yeah, time and practice seem to help.  It'd be nice if they made these things easier to use though."

:Laughs:

Yes.  A manual would be nice.  For us amateurs.  You're lucky you didn't shoot your eye out"

:Yawns and stretches his long arms out wide:

Well, it's getting late. I probably should have been in bed hours ago.  It's been very nice meeting you fellas.  Thanks for letting me shoot with yous.  Take care.

:Ambles out into the night:

Muerte Grabs a El Tigre Rifle, places a messy wad of money and Proceeds to fire, after fireing all of the Largo, he Places the rifle on the Shocked owners table,  all the Targets were Bullseyed, he walks to the group and says "hey saint, i see you have a bit of recoil there" and Laughs