Posted by riot.
When I was a small child, in the elementary school years, I spent a lot of time living at my grandparents' house. They had a big back yard full of nooks and crannies that I loved to explore. I'd construct elaborate fantasy stories and act out parts, using the trees, patio, garage, and spaces between shrubbery as my sets. Of course, as a kid who loved watching G.I Joe, Transformers, Spiderman, and all those types of hero cartoons, many of my stories featured guns.
I remember the first time I brought a toy gun to my grandparents' house, to lend some verisimilitude to my enactments. I was on the patio, shooting at an imaginary enemy in a tree, when my grandfather Otto came outside and took my gun. Now grandpa was the quiet sort who didn't seem to care much for kids and their noisy play, it's true, but he generally left me alone to do my thing, getting involved only if I tried to play around his Steinway grand. This intervention into my back yard stories was unusual enough to bring me quickly out of the realm of fantasy, so my attention was entirely focused on him as he told me that guns were not toys, he never wanted to see me holding one, and they were absolutely not allowed in his house.
