M.Y.T.H. Inc In Action by Robert Asprin

I spare the crossbow no more than a cursory glance, havin’ a weak stomach when it comes to substandard weapons. It is obviously the work of government contractors, and bears the same resemblance to the custom weapons from lolo that I normally use that a plow horse bears to a thoroughbred. Ignorin’ this, I holds a quarrel in my mouth while cockin’ the crossbow by puttin’ the butt in my stomach and jerkin’ the string back with both hands (which is quicker ‘n usin’ the foot stirrup to do the same thing), drop the quarrel into the groove ahead of the drawn string, and squeeze off a quick shot down range.

Not surprisin’ly, the missile thwacks into the dummy’s right shoulder.

“A bit lucky, but not bad,” Smiley sez, grudgin’ like. “You’d get better accuracy, though, if you shot from the shoulder instead of the hip. Trying to show off will only …”

By the time he gets this far in his critique, I have recocked, reloaded, and loosed a second shot … again workin’ from the hip.

This shot hisses into place not more than two finger widths from the first.

The sergeant shuts his mouth so fast you can hear his teeth click together, which is fine by me, and watches in silence whilst I snap a third shot off that makes a neat triangle with the first two.

“Pretty sloppy,” comes the sneerin’ squeak of Nunzio, as he joins our group, free of his disguise now. “I warned you that crushing stuff with your hands was gonna ruin your touch for a trigger!”

“Izzat so!!??” I snaps, more than a little annoyed at havin’ my handiwork decried. “Let’s see you do better with this thing!”