shooting day blog by Horton Fox

 

Twas a hot October day in the city of California.  We all met at Metz’s house and studied our firepower.  Automatic shotguns, AK-47s, and a few Colt 45s.  It was here that we first met Alexey, the crazy Russian, for this was his arsenal.  He was, as you sometimes find, someone who is larger than life, but a caricature too human to be a cartoon.  A man deeply concerned with the problems of the world, yet dressed in long hair and a curly Salvador Dali mustache.  When he talked, he sounded like Steve Martin or Dan Akroyd from the Wild and Crazy Guys sketch, and when he laughed, he sounded like the Count from Sesame Street.  Most strange indeed.

We waited for Victor for a bit, and then headed off to the desert to meet his consistently late Bohemian ass.  We caravan-ed out to Santa Clarita, looking for a spot to shoot…and as does happen, luck prevailed, and a guy that Dave had met at the gun store earlier that day asked us to come and shoot guns at his property up in the hills of Santa Clarita.  We headed up there and met up with Victor and the models and some other gun nuts.  We stopped and waited for the owner of the property to arrive and ate some sandwiches Dave had somehow acquired.  Each was separately marked with Roast Beef or Tuna or Veggie.  They weren’t too bad, especially for being wrapped in tin foil.

Eventually, the property owner arrived with his Mexican worker in tow and immediately asked where the snatch was.  Come to find out, Dave had talked him into letting us shoot up there with the promise of hot models.  Let it be said that he was slightly disappointed.  He asked about the sticker on my Element, which says “Army Undead”, and was strangely disgusted to find out that it was a Zombie film reference.  He preached about how shitty the last film he worked on was, and how novice the director was.  It was a one million dollar Sci-Fi movie with people in weird suits and it was most unconvincing apparently.  Just over the hill it happened, apparently.

Anyway, he only allowed us one car at a time up into the treachery of his dirt road hills.  So then the taxiing began with the Element.  The guns and Lexey went first, the models seconds, and Victor and the clothes last.  It was a strange and long and winding road that led up into the hills, marked by many trailers and broken down shantys.  4 wheel drive was mandatory, it was a dangerous road reminiscent of the mountains of Venezuala.

After about an hour, we were set up and ready to go,  and the property owner left us alone.  Very strange.  This guy had just met Dave that morning and was content to let us shoot live rounds on his property with a gaggle of people who had never shot guns before.  Perhaps he was comforted by the presence of Retired Sergeant Welty, Mr. Will Welty, motherfucker extreme.  And in his defense, Mr. Welty did run a tight show, always in control of every gun in play.  I was running B Camera and this guy Neal was running A Camera.  The shooting began.   It was a blur of time, it was the first time I had shot in a while, and I was very busy and had a good time finding angles and moments.  Many clothes were filled with holes and Victor was most happy.  Shrapnel flew and the photographer, Ian almost got bitten by a ricochet.  I got hit with a casing and it made the back of my head bleed, most fun.  The sun left soon, and at the last minute we decided to get some silhouette shots of Victor with the shotgun.  Most nice, check ‘em out on the site.

On the way home, it was me and Lexey, Sgt. Mavis, Sgt. Will, and the Cubby in the car.  Lexey took a shine to Sgt. Will’s involvement in the military.  I, for one, know that Will doesn’t look back on his time in the military with favor, nor does he enjoy talking about it, read on and you’ll find out why.  For the entirety of the way back, Lexey questioned Will about every aspect of his involvement in the military, his favorite sergeants, his favorite guns, his battles.  I could tell that Will was a little uncomfortable talking about it, for he had done it many times before for innocent curious folk.  As we pulled into Dave’s parking lot, Will finally gave Lexey the information he had been searching for for some time.  Apparently, in Iraq, Will had been in the passenger seat of a hummer full of soldiers when they were approached by an Iraqi pedestrian who shot Will in the chest.  There was silence, and then Will offered, “Well, that guy’s not alive anymore.”  Apparently this was only the first of Will’s 2 purple hearts.  We left the car a little quiet and contemplative and pledged to meet up later.  I went to Santa Monica to pick up the X.  It would prove to be a bitter endeavor for myself.