All right, I have to come right out and admit it. I don't much like shotguns.
There, I said it.
They're big and bulky. They kick like a mule. The ammunition weighs a ton: that's bad, bad Zombie juju. Remember, zombies travel in hordes.
But here's the kicker - I can't hit a barn door with it, even standing inside the barn. Not much fun there.
For all the talk I do about my modest marksmanship, Ican keep the groups serviceable with a pistol. With some instruction and practice, I know that I can be a passable marksman with a rifle. Now that I'll be able to spend time at the range (rather than driving between Atlanta and Austin on I-20), I may be able to take a run at that "Expert" badge that Dad earned back at Uncle Sam's Summer Camp.
But a shottie? The clay pigeons, they mock me. Actual pigeons laugh at me. Fine, then - I'll get my fowl at the supermarket.
Sure, I know that the sound that a pump action makes as you rack the slide will make the home invader go weak in the knees. That's about the only thing I see as useful in the scattergat.
Uncouth, that's me. Feel free to help couth me in the comments.