Another True Story Involving a Gun and ME

So I was over at my favorite Hor's blog, where I was reminded of yet another ridiculous story involving one Sassy Blonde and a huge piece...uh gun, I mean. So, with little hope of looking smarter than the village idiot, I'll continue.
My sophomore year of college, I was home for the Thanksgiving Break. My sister was about 14 at the time, and my dad was dating a woman who would become, for a decade, my 3rd stepmother. Anywho, after arriving that afternoon to the small town my father and sister had moved to just before I started college, we all had a lively dinner and headed to the homestead. My dad told me that he would be sleeping over at the girlfriend-stepmom to be's house, so he wanted to make sure I knew where the home protection system was kept. Well, it wasn't hard to find: there was a sawed off 410 shotgun leaning against the wall behind the kitchen door. It was not loaded, but it had a little fanny pack type thing velcroed to the stock with some shells. After demonstrating to him that I knew how to load it, he left feeling less worried about us girls at home alone. About 8pm, my sister asked if she could have a friend sleep over. I didn't see a problem with it, so her friend was dropped off by her mother about an hour later. We all watched a movie in my dad's room on the king-sized bed and ate a bunch of junk food, generally having a good ole gal's time. After all the carb loading, we began to get sleepy. By the time I finished watching tv, the girls were fast asleep, so I went to sleep in my sister's room (by this time, I had no room at "home"). My sister, at the time, had my old bed: a twin-sized water bed. After washing my face and taking out my contacts, I hit the sheets and was quickly off to dreamland. First of all, I need to say that I'm a light sleeper, and so at times the slightest noise will wake me up...particularly if I'm not in my normal bed. Anywho, I was disturbed by a rustling noise near the window. At first, I groggily thought it was the puppy (dad's new Samoyed husky..so cute), but as my eyes adjusted, I began making out the outline of a shadow at the window. That's when I started to breathe a little more quickly and try, unsuccessfully, to move to the far edge of the bed so that I could get up and get the hell out of there if I needed to. For those of you who have never experienced a water bed, this is simply impossible. And not at all quiet. As I squinted at the shadowy figure at the window, I saw the screen being removed. Holy shit! At this point, I couldn't hear anything but my heart beating in my ears. I struggled to get up out of that damn rippling contraption, sloshing around like a fish on the shore. Frankly, I was thinking that I would be murdered in that bed simply because I wasn't a good swimmer. Fuck me for never agreeing to those damn swimming lessons! So I finally edged onto the wooden bed frame, all the while staring at the window. When I saw fingers come through the mini blinds, I nearly shat myself. I double-timed it to the kitchen to grab our home security system aka the shotgun. I cracked the barrel and loaded up two shells and ran back to the bedroom after taking a quick peek at my sister and her friend, forever known after this incident as Lil Skanky Ho. As I entered the doorway of the bedroom, I aimed as best I could at the window. Now, some of you lucky bastards may have 20/20 vision, but I am 20/200 at best without my corrective lenses. So by this time, the window and blinds were raised, and I yelled, "Freeze motherfucker!" (It was the age of Die Hard, so I can only assume that's why it came out of me.) Then I saw the shadowy figure kind of lurch, so I squeezed off a round. Now the kick knocked me backwards on my ass, so I guess you can say I was a bit unprepared for that little bonus. The blast, of course, woke up my sister and LSH, who came running and screaming through the kitchen and around the corner to find me, shotgun in hand, sitting on the floor. I yelled, "Call Daddy!" So my sister dialed up Daddio, who told her to call 911 and stay together with the gun loaded (I don't think she told him that I had that covered already). About 5 minutes later, the policeman arrived (it is seriously a small town), and after I told him I saw a prowler, he started looking around outside. Two minutes after that, my dad arrived looking like an escapee from Bellvue, all wild-eyed and shit. Before he could ask us what happened, the policeman came back inside. When we turned on the light in my sister's room, we all went to look at the window. Other than a nick in the frame, the window was in tact because it had been opened nearly all the way. The blinds were destroyed, but the policeman pointed out that my dad's metal storage building directly in line with the window about 1o yards away was riddled with buckshot. The policeman said he found footprints and that yes, the screen had been removed. He then went over my story with me, looked at the papers for my dad's gun, and left with his night's paperwork. He actually had to hold back his laughter when I recounted the story, especially when I got to my shouted expletive. The next day, my sister confided in me that LSH had told her boyfriend where she was staying that night and to come over and sneak in the window! Stupid hobag! Little slutty bitchface! I wanted to kill her! Needless to say, my father made sure that my sister was minus one friend after that little episode. Now that story is one that people in the family decide to tell for a big laugh: "Remember that time Sassy went all crazy and shot up the shed?" (It runs a close second to the time I caught my grandfather's toolshed on fire,..but that is another post for another time) COME ON, PEOPLE! It wasn't like I was playing around and using it for target practice! I thought a psycho murdering fuck was trying to break in to kill me and my little sister! And to add insult to injury, I couldn't raise my effing right arm for 3 days due to the kick from that bad boy! If I'd carried an effing pen around, I could've been Bob effing Dole! It was useless! What the hell? The bruise took nearly two weeks to finally disappear.
So there it is...another true story involving a gun and me. Don't judge me, people. I've got a gun.