Sea of Tranquility by Lesley Choyce

Phonse said. Nothing he liked more than to watch the smiles on the faces of trigger-happy tourists. Father-son bonding at its best, this time around.
    â€œIt’s when the windows shatter, that’s the part I like the best,” Bruce announced.
    â€œI think I hit the gas tank. How come it didn’t blow up?” Todd wondered out loud.
    â€œAll fuel has been safely removed before using the vehicle as a target,” Phonse answered. This lesson had been learned the hard way.
    â€œIf you like the sound of glass, Mr. Sanger, may I suggest we move you into televisions if you feel you’re ready.”
    â€œI think I am finding my range,” Bruce said.
    â€œYeah, Dad, can we? Can we shoot at TVs?”
    A curious look to Phonse. “TVs, computer monitors, you pick or mix and match as is your pleasure.”
    So, while Alistair monitored the guns for safety’s sake, Bruce and Todd assisted Phonse in setting a big old Motorola floor model TV in the centre of the pit. Acer and Goldstar computer monitors were also expertly placed, one atop each decimated car. Bruce’s ears were ringing pleasantly from all the gunshots. Todd’s shoulder was sore from the kick of the shotgun.
    Bruce fired away at the computer monitors over and over until they were shredded into a ragged mass of plastic, wires, and riddled electronic fragments. But it did not compare with the magnificent implosion of the old TV screen on the Motorola. Todd brought television to its knees with one crippling blast from his shotgun. After that, the excitement dwindled.
    Alistair suggested they fire at old five-and-a-quarter-inch floppy disks tossed in the air, but for these novice gunmen, it turned out to be a bit beyond their skills. Nonetheless, after two hours of therapy in the Phonse theme park, both men were pleasantly exhausted and knew it was time to find the womenfolk.
    â€œTime for a beer?” Phonse asked.“I made it myself.”
    â€œNo. Just tally up what I owe you and we’ll be on our way. You do take Visa?”
    â€œVisa, MasterCard, Sears card, if you have one. I can’t do Air Miles, though.”
    â€œThis has been amazing.”
    â€œWe aim to please,” he said taking Bruce’s credit card.“Get it?”
    Todd was polite enough to laugh.
    â€œWhat do you do with all the stuff after it’s been used for target practice?” Bruce asked, environmental conscience creeping up on him from behind like a stalker in Central Park.
    â€œA lot of it is recycled. For what’s left over, well,Alistair takes the Caterpillar and shoves the junk into a hole. We bury it. It goes back into the earth. It’s only right.”
    Something continued to tug at Bruce’s scruples as he was handed back his Visa card and signed his name in the usual place, surprised that the total for the afternoon fun was so much less than he’d expected.
    â€œTell your friends,” Phonse said as they walked away, down the dusty road towards the Aetna Café.
    â€œBut not your mother,” Bruce whispered under his breath to his son.
    Bruce could not stop smiling. Yet he couldn’t believe that he had allowed himself (and his son!) to indulge in such a thing. He swore to the sky above him that he was still a pacifist; he would donate even more money to the lobby for gun control. He would work for a cleaner world. He would do these things even as he silently admitted he was a hypocrite.
No
. He was a walking paradox. Everyone was. Better to understand the central ironies of your life and get on with it. Better than hiding them away in a closet. This was something to discuss with his wife when the time was right. Not now. No, not today. He would not destroy the euphoria of the day. A day without whales had turned out to be not a bad day after all.

C
hapter
N
ine
    Men, off to do what? Go to a junkyard. Well, that was a first for Bruce. Nonetheless, it was a good chance for