I once was a fine specimen. I had several brethren that were similar, but I was one of the elite. I was matched with eleven of my elite brothers and sent out on our journey. We ended up at the home of a fine craftsman, who adorned us with matching war paint and ferocious looking feathers. I was a beautiful GT UL Pro 22. Our career began with bags and foam. We seen many a 12 ring in our time. Once in a while when our captain was not focused we would get lost. But our glorious war paint allowed us to be found easily. We traveled afar and seen many wooded land, usually we would fight alone. Once in a while our captain would allow us to do battle indoors where we could fight in groups of three or five. Alas, one fine day on the practice field, one of my brethren came into formation at an abnormal angle. My spine was fractured. The boss inspected me with a gentle bend and a few fine curse words later; I was retired to the quiver never to see glory again. Struck down in my prime! Upon returning home, I was stripped of my weapon and sat on a shelf, with some other fine warriors with injuries, and one weirdo that looked like a Siamese twin. Not sure what happened there; they, or it was an outcast. We traded stories of the battlefield until they were all told. Then boredom set in. Day after day passed and I began to realize that I was of little use. Then one day the captain came in, picked me up and began to modify me! I didn’t have my glorious war paint anymore. I haven’t seen any of my brethren, but I am useful again!!! My life has meaning. Even if all I do is replace a broken piece of plastic. Works great. The plastic piece on this bifold door wore out and the 22 fit perfectly in the hole. Have any other uses for our fallen warriors?