If you have to puke in the parking lot before target practice, well, perhaps knitting is more your forte. Sorry, inside joke...
I think I have told this story before (gosh, there have been so many...) but when I was first hired as a cop, I was taken out to the police range, and they had set up what I bet they figured was an impossible course, designed to humiliate me, and let them lecture me on my faults.
They had set up a series of 'hostage' silhouettes, several on wheeled carts, pulled by ropes and pulleys, including the 'hostage takers', shifting back and forth. One hostage shot, failed you. I had a standard police issue 12 ga. Remington 870 Police Model, and a holstered stainless issue S&W .357, loaded with .38 +P+ SJHP hollowpoints, and four speed loaders.
The Sergeant blew his whistle, and...
I couched the shotgun in the crook of my opposite arm, and drew my pistol, crouched, and shot the closest terrorists. In the head. Holstered, and pumped the shotgun from the hip into the rest of the 'bad guys' (00 Buck) squatted down, laid the shotgun down, drew my pistol, snapped open the cylinder, dumped empties, dropped in a speedloader's worth of new rounds, and made sure none of them would go to trial.
It was suddenly very quiet. I reloaded, and reholstered, and turned to the sergeant, the corporal, and the other two officers standing there. Staring at me. The sergeant finally turned to the other cops, and said "Uh...I think he passed."
Odd how that job didn't work out.