Who Knew Asses Were Made of Metal?

Reluctantly my walls of vanity fell. I slipped the lime green squishy bits into my ears. I had visions of leaving with sudden onset deafness. People in my family already scream at me I didn't need to encourage them. I looked around. Standing before me was a huge metal...uh, well it was a sort of, kind of... ass. I don't mean a Burro or a Mule. I mean the back end of a bent over... actually I am not sure if it was an animal. I am not an outdoor kind of person. I don't camp. To me camping is like being homeless on purpose. Who does that? This back end had clearly never done Yoga. Or taken a Pilates class. Or been to a gym. It was very gushy and soft and puddled over the edges like meters of expensive cloth. It was mildly reminiscent of a not- so- elderly relative of mine when with a huge grunt would brace her rather well proportioned feet, anchor herself against the side of the cupboard and a chair then fold herself in half to grab something off of the kitchen floor. Then she would sweep at the floor, swooshing and exhaling in exasperation. Thankfully, I never knew what it was. I never saw what was in her hand although she always wanted to show it to me. I had visions of things which had dripped from some sort of orifice and knowing who lived in the house it was not a pretty picture. This ritual was always followed by, "Okay, now we can eat." The gigantic rear end was pinned to the ties of a retaining wall. A lane of grass a meter or two wide separated it from a wooden table. The table was long and narrow. I did the mental math and came to the conclusion that the large metal piece was in fact a target. Perhaps the extravagantly painted markings should have been my first clue. Okay, I never said I was bright. And I did say I was from the city. The only meat I know is neatly arranged, hermetically sealed comes already breaded and carefully placed in a Ciabatta Bun and if you add enough stuff you don't even notice the breaded bits that can stick to your teeth.