*&$%#@!

Took a co-worker shooting today. He wasn't fond of the Mosin-Nagant, so I showed him the operation of the muzzle loader, made sure he understood the rules, watched him for a while, and let him have fun. He was enjoying it quite a bit, until he shot the damn ramrod at the target.

Yeah. I heard him fire and it sounded a bit off, but he seemed OK and the gun looked fine. He complained that it had kicked hard. I thought he'd just put more powder in than he had intended. But when I went to fire the gun, the ramrod was missing. After searching for it, we saw the slash in the target board where the ramrod had gone through. Once the range went cold we walked down, and damned if you couldn't see exactly where it had gone, down to the rings on the jag. It was almost cartoonish; the outline of the ramrod in the board.

So the question I have now is this - just how much damage did my gun take from that? I cleaned and inspected the barrel, and it looks fine. The breech plug is fine. But I know that there could be damage that I can't see. What normally happens when you shoot the ramrod out?

Oh, and don't even get my started on the Mosin-Nagant. I couldn't hit the fucking broadside of a barn from the inside. I started out the day with two-inch groups, and by the end of the day I couldn't group at all. I'm not just frustrated, I'm infuriated. I'm about to take that worthless fucking gun and turn it into kindling.

So, I have a muzzle-loader that might be damaged, and I have a rifle that I can't hit anything with. I won't be able to hit the range anytime soon, today was the last chance. Which means I might not get to go hunting. Fuck. Just fuck. Fuck me gently with a chainsaw fuck fuck FUCK DAMMIT FUCK!

And this is just one fucking thing that makes me want to take a fucking axe to the smiling faces of the drones who walk around asking me how my day went. You don't want to know how my fucking day went. I don't even want to know how my worthless fucking wasted day went, I just want to drink myself into a stupor and go to sleep and pretend that this fucking day never happened, but I can't even fucking do that. Fuck. I want to destroy my fucking Mosin, but I'm holding off in the faint hope that there might be some chance of rescuing the gun into something that might resemble an actual functioning half accurate firearm. I'm hoping and praying that my muzzle-loader didn't just fucking die because my co-worker forgot to take the fucking ramrod out. But until I can confirm it, I have a grand total of FUCKING ZERO deer killing firearms. So I might as well just wipe my fucking ass with my hunting permit.

Fuck.

Fuck fuck fuck fuck fuck.