My wife Norma had run-off with Guy Dupree and I was waiting around for the credit card billings to come in so I could see where they had gone. I was biding my time. This was October. They had taken my car and my Texaco card and my American Express card. Dupree had also taken from the bedroom closet my good raincoat and a shotgun and perhaps some other articles. It was just like him to pick the .410 - a boy's first gun. I suppose he thought it wouldn't kick much, that it would kill or at least rip up the flesh in a satisfying way without making a lot of noise or giving much of a jolt to his sloping monkey shoulder.
- From The Dog of the South by Charles Portis
Note: Charles Portis, best known as the author of True Grit, passed away in February. He was reclusive and brilliant. [The Washington Examiner noted that he did some of his work from a fishing shack in Arkansas.]
I advise not reading The Dog of the South in an area where you cannot laugh out loud.