Uncle Timmy armed us with a salt shooting, fly killing shotgun. The grill brought in the swarm and Finn, Tim, Dad, and I mowed them down like grass.
Uncle Timmy: Finnegan, you’re a really good fly shooter.
Finn: Yep. You could say that I’m the best.
Just then Finn shot another one and yelled, “Yeah, baby. I smoked him!”
And we laughed until we cried.