And He Shot Him in the Head

The range allowed for anyone with enough grit and exactness to try their hand at putting rounds on paper targets. In time, those targets could be future attackers. Of course, a situation where an attacker would assault you, heart rate, adrenaline, and the whole pharmacy of other drugs in your brain and body would be coursing.

Retired Marine Major Davis Sprague brought the Prophet Mohammad to the gun range. Earplugs, designed with excellence and efficiency, allowed the shooters to focus on their targets. The incessant firing was like the snap of popcorn kernels in heat.

Sprague brought Mohammad to the firing line.

“Alright, you’re going to want to get into a combat stance, feet shoulder width apart, back straight. Head upright and on a swivel.”

Mohammad held the pistol in his hands. He flagged the line.

“Whoa! Goddamn, Mo’! What are you trying to do? The target’s down there. Keep your aim true or you’re off the line,” Sprague instructed.

“You wouldn’t happen to have an AR-15, would you? This pistol isn’t working for me.”

“I thought you were going to ask for an AK. I think we can arrange for you to use a rifle.” In a few moments, Sprague had found an assault rifle that Mohammad had requested.

“Now, this is firepower,” Mohammad squeaked.

He fired at the target and not one shot landed.

“This is terrible, Mo.’ I mean you didn’t even land a single shot. Step aside.”

Sprague gripped the pistol and breathed, relaxed, aimed, slacked, and squeezed off three shots that landed on the target. He pressed the button for the paper to be at hand.

“You see this? This is called the ‘Holey Trinity’: two to the chest, one to the head. Now, you try.” Sprague set up a fresh target for Mohammad. He shot everywhere but nothing landed, and completely missed.

“We’re going to be here for a while. You’ll be able to pick up after me. Maybe we can go back to the classroom.”

“I don’t want to go back to class. I want to fire upon the infidels.”

“You said that your faith was about peace. It seems to me you want a piece of the action,” Sprague surmised.

“That’s right. I want to exact Jihad on anyone that goes against Shariah Law.”

“I don’t think I can help you there,” Sprague admitted.

Mohammad held onto the AR-15 and positioned it in the crook of his armpit. He focused on the target and fired. Again the target had no signs of damage.

Then, Sprague picked up the pistol and commanded that Mohammad put down the rifle. Mohammad stepped back and the people on the line quickly got out of the way. The major ordered them to exit.

Sprague, who had shot expert in rifle and pistol his whole Marine Corps career, aimed his weapon at the prophet.

“I know your type. You martyrized many of my soldiers.” Mohammad still held the rifle, but he was shaking with fear. Like a cornered raccoon, he felt he had no chance of survival. He turned the gun on himself. He held it straight under his chin.

He pulled the trigger and the gun fired but only a blank round. A small burn marked his flesh.

“What is this?! I thought I just had a bad aim. You Satan. You have double-crossed me!” Mohammad shouted.

“Do you think I would give you live rounds? To hell with that. You will die a thousand deaths before you gain any power, you impotent freak.”

He turned with the pistol trained on Mohammad and he shot him in the head.

Mohammad slumped. Next, the retired major lifted Mohammad’s lifeless body on his back and removed himself from the line.