My husband and I were watching a show on the History Channel about guns. It included stories on Wild Bill Hickok and Annie Oakley. The show primarily focused on exhibition shooting and having modern day experts try to recreate the shots of the yesteryear legends.
One of the last challenges was to split a bullet in half.
Me: Babe, if you shoot a bullet in half wouldn’t it explode?
Me: No? If you shoot a bullet with another bullet wouldn’t the bullet explode?
Me: So, when we watch this there will be an explosion?
Me: So, the bullet will not explode if another one shoots it?
Babe: Yes, the second bullet would explode if it was a fully loaded bullet.
Me: But, you just said no.
Babe: I said no to what?
At this point I am about to jump off the third story floor of our vacation home.
Me: Babe, when a bullet shoots at another bullet in order to split it, will it or will it not explode?
Babe: Probably, but that is not what they are doing. This guy is shooting a single bullet into a piece of steal in order to try to “split” the bullet.
Me: Ohhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhh, got it.
Through out the show, they were shooting at things in an attempt to alter the object being shot at…ie a deck of cards, a clay pigeon, or a cigarette out of someones mouth, so when they said split a bullet, I assumed the bullet being split was the object and not the projectile. My husband having much more knowledge than I, fully understood what they were talking about.
We have these little communication break downs from time to time, Usually it is him wondering around the kitchen asking me where the glasses are.
Glasses that have been in the same cupboard for our entire 20 year marriage, but fortunately, these hickups rarely turn into anything more than a fleeting frustration.
After all, he thinks I am super cute and I, well, I think he is everything.