I decided that I'd had enough of the roadrunner so on Wednesday evening I went out and bought a shotgun. One of the great things about living in the United States is that all you need to buy a gun is some sort of ID (I borrowed a friends library card) and hard cash.
It was 12-gauge, double barrel and with a hacksaw from Ace Hardware I reduced the barrels to a manageable length.
So I was cruising down the path this morning with the shotgun taped to the handlebars like a rotating tail gunner from a Lancaster Bomber when I saw the little bastard at the usually spot. It froze as if staring down the barrel of a gun. I grabbed the stock with my left hand and squeezed both triggers in its direction but hit the desert scrub to its left and raised a cloud of dust that I had to cough through.
Now remember that I haven't even slowed down at this point. I reloaded by holding the stock between my legs and shoving 2 more AAA's into the barrel. By now the roadrunner had taken off but was still in front of me unable to leave the path because of a high wall and line of trees.
This time it was easier to aim because it was holding a steady height above the ground and not quivering. I decided to let rip with one barrel at a time. The wide spread passed just below it to the right knocking him slightly up and left. The choke barrel caught it up the tail and it exploded into a cloud of feathers.
I swallowed a fist full of feathers as I sailed through the aftermath and set a new record cycling to work.
Of course I ditched the shotgun behind a bush before I got to work because we're not allowed to guns at our desks.