Kenny's sniper rifles

Back when I worked at the Harjim Machinery Works out in Victoria, one of my mates was a guy named Kenny.

Kenny was a machinist. An absolutely top-drawer machinist. Kenny's hobby was making guns.

Most of the guys at Harjim were first class. There's been many times when I puzzled over how I ever got hired in with that lot. I must have been a pretty decent welder.

Kenny was a short wiry guy. Showed me how to cook the books a bit to put a little extra cash in my pocket. Now and then you'd be working on afternoon shift, repairing some big piece of equipment for MacMillan Bloedel or one of the big mill operators. Joe Shmuck would show up at the door wondering if you could weld a trailer hitch to the underside of his station wagon.

So I'd weld up the trailer hitch, pocket the fifty bucks, and charge the time to Mac Blo. No wonder they went bankrupt.

Kenny was in every way a mild-mannered even-tempered guy. Except in one way. Once in awhile his wife would call. You'd hear him on the phone. It was painful. Fuck this and bitch that for five solid minutes. I figured Kenny had a dark side. Wife abuser.

Kenney built target rifles in his spare time. His guns were held in such high repute that he supplied members of the Canadian olympic target shooting team right till the day he got a letter from the Government of Canada advising him to cease and desist. From now on only registered and approved firearms manufacturers could make guns. I saw the letter.

Kenny invited me out on a fishing trip. Had a boat tied up in Saanich. It was with some trepidation that I knocked on the door of his little cottage in Esquilmalt. The missus answered the door. She's sporting a bathrobe and she's got curlers in her hair. She's easily twice the size of Kenny.

Didn't open the door though. "KENNY, ONE A YER ARSEHOLE BUDDIES IS HERE YA FUCKIN TWAT GET THE DOOR!"

Whoa! A minute later Kenny's at the door. Apologies. The old woman's got a crazy on if you know what I mean.

Sure Kenny. Walks me through the two rooms before the kitchen. Laundry piled knee-high everywhere.

We sit at the kitchen table. There's weeks worth of dishes piled on the countertops. I try to make small talk over a beer. How long you had the boat? Get out much?

Kenny bids the missus farewell.

KIN I FIX YOUS ARSEHOLES A GRILLED CHEEZ BEFORE YA GO?

I stay an extra half hour. Mrs. Kenny whips up a couple of very tasty grilled cheese sandwiches. I come to the realization that maybe Kenny doesn't have a dark side after all. Funny how you can be so wrong about people.

Got a nine pound salmon that day. Biggest fish I ever caught.