Well, now I ain't exactly nearsighted, . . . nor blind, . . . but unless the little brat already shot it at me, . . . I can't think of any way I would know for sure that it was a BB gun. Most probably about the time it started to level on me the first time (if I saw it before he shot me) there is a real chance he would have heard the safety go off on my .45, . . . and depending on what he did then, . . . that just may be the last sound his ears would ever register.
Most BB guns today, . . . do not look like BB guns, . . . they look like a 1911 or a Beretta 92 among others, . . . and I don't carry my calipers to do a muzzle diameter check before I start unshucking my 1911.
Now if it is a little kid, . . . he's going to get some slack, . . . because I can play the odds that he doesn't know how to use it if it is real, . . . but if the shooter is 5 feet tall or so, . . . got a dirtly little beard, . . . speaking dispickable words, . . . and pointing a piece at me: I ain't taking time to see the size of the hole, . . . and when he sees mine, . . . maybe it will all quit before he goes permanently horizontal.
May God bless,
Dwight
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