May the rust booger ruen his bore. May his ammo swell enuf to stick and jam his gun. May his sights loosen and fall off. May the mice eat his leather. May his boots pinch. And, may the wheels wobble and fall off his gun cart.
Then the Evil one will understand the depths of his depravity.
Finally, may he shoot one long sooty, smoky, sulphorous match on a rainy day, put his guns away wet and dirty, and take them out too late to save the bluing.
He is truly an icky pard.
DD-DLoS