For those unfamiliar with Indianapolis geography or demographics, Brownsburg is a sleepy commuter 'burb to the northwest of town, 'way out past the reservoir, where the subdivisions thin out and the cornfields thicken, and minivans and MBAs start giving way to mullets and Monte Carlos.
There are no mean streets in B'burg, not even any mildly peeved streets; just Little League and yard sales on the weekends. This makes it hard for teenagers in Brownsburg to convince their friends that they lead secret lives as hardcore gang bangers (maybe they commute downtown like their parents, but for more nefarious purposes.)
One particular teen was so intent on proving his banger bona fides to his B'burg buddies that he shot himself four times with... get this: a pellet gun, and claimed that he'd been attacked by a rival. He even had his friend's dad call 911. The police were not amused.
A pellet gun? Jeezis, Opie, when Aunt Bea finds out you shot yourself with a pellet gun and got blood on the velour upholstery of her minivan, you're going to get in trouble. She's gonna take away your PS3 and it'll be no more Grand Theft Auto for you!