Walter Zoomie
Shooter
Ok. So I’m going to go to the corner Speedway station a block away to get some gas and smokes and a pack a Juicy Fruit. I know I gotta pack a rod, but the question is…do I go concealed or out in the open in front of God and his son Barack and everybody?
I decide to go concealed, because possible confrontation scares me…but which piece? Will it be my gold-plated Baby Desert Eagle, or my dayglo-pink Glock?
I decide on the Glock, because I’m feeling a little frisky and silly this morning, but now, I gotta decide on which kinda rig I’m gonna use to conceal and wear my gaily colored Glock. Should I go with the black nylon Uncle Mike’s shoulder holster with spare magazine pouch under a light jacket, or should I use my Gucci horsehide and rhinestone-studded pancake holster which hooks nicely on my pants belt and can be covered with my oversized tie-dyed commemorative 2004 Indy 500 t-shirt?
I decide on the shoulder holster because A) I can carry a spare magazine, and you never know when the ****’s gonna hit the fan or Al Qaeda’s gonna show up at one of the convenient stores of Speedway, B) It’s just always more cooler to carry spare ammo and extra kit so you look like a private operator in Iraq if someone accidentally sees your stuff under your jacket, and, 3) I heard somebody make fun of Uncle Mike’s products. Uncle Mike is a close personal friend of mine and he’ll kick your ass too!
Next, I gotta figure out what I’m gonna do if I get pulled over by the cops on the way to Speedway, or, if there’s cops inside the Speedway flirting with the cashiers and getting free stuff and they see my gun…how am I gonna handle myself? What if they ask me about why I have a gun, or if I have a permit? Am I gonna get all uppity and say, “ ‘Cuz it’s my God-given Constitutional right, Barney. I KNOW you don’t have a problem with that…right? Am I free to go now? Am I free to go now? Am I free to go now? Am I free to go now? Am I free to go now? Am I free to go now?”
Or, am I gonna be all nervous and shaky and polite and cooperative and patronizing and say, “Hi, Officer! I’m carrying a gun this morning! Yes sir, here’s my gun and ammo, LTCH, drivers license, social security card, a pint of blood, my nubile teenaged daughter, and…did you know that on December 14, 1984, I smoked some weed and tore the tags off of a new mattress…and…say, that’s a lovely shiny badge you have there. Did you shine it yourself? Thank you for your service. May I sniff your holster?”
I decide, “To hell with it. I’ll go out tomorrow.”
Who knew going to the convenient stores of Speedway would be such a hassle and require so many decisions to be made? Certainly not me before I became a gun nutter. I blame George W. Bush, Dick Cheney, Halliburton, and Big Oil.
Thank God for his son, and that he will soon save us all and take care of us and fix all our problems. Heck, before too long, we won’t even need our guns any more, and we can just turn them in and be all happy and ****…
That’s what I think will happen anyways.
[FONT="]Maybe.[/FONT]
I decide to go concealed, because possible confrontation scares me…but which piece? Will it be my gold-plated Baby Desert Eagle, or my dayglo-pink Glock?
I decide on the Glock, because I’m feeling a little frisky and silly this morning, but now, I gotta decide on which kinda rig I’m gonna use to conceal and wear my gaily colored Glock. Should I go with the black nylon Uncle Mike’s shoulder holster with spare magazine pouch under a light jacket, or should I use my Gucci horsehide and rhinestone-studded pancake holster which hooks nicely on my pants belt and can be covered with my oversized tie-dyed commemorative 2004 Indy 500 t-shirt?
I decide on the shoulder holster because A) I can carry a spare magazine, and you never know when the ****’s gonna hit the fan or Al Qaeda’s gonna show up at one of the convenient stores of Speedway, B) It’s just always more cooler to carry spare ammo and extra kit so you look like a private operator in Iraq if someone accidentally sees your stuff under your jacket, and, 3) I heard somebody make fun of Uncle Mike’s products. Uncle Mike is a close personal friend of mine and he’ll kick your ass too!
Next, I gotta figure out what I’m gonna do if I get pulled over by the cops on the way to Speedway, or, if there’s cops inside the Speedway flirting with the cashiers and getting free stuff and they see my gun…how am I gonna handle myself? What if they ask me about why I have a gun, or if I have a permit? Am I gonna get all uppity and say, “ ‘Cuz it’s my God-given Constitutional right, Barney. I KNOW you don’t have a problem with that…right? Am I free to go now? Am I free to go now? Am I free to go now? Am I free to go now? Am I free to go now? Am I free to go now?”
Or, am I gonna be all nervous and shaky and polite and cooperative and patronizing and say, “Hi, Officer! I’m carrying a gun this morning! Yes sir, here’s my gun and ammo, LTCH, drivers license, social security card, a pint of blood, my nubile teenaged daughter, and…did you know that on December 14, 1984, I smoked some weed and tore the tags off of a new mattress…and…say, that’s a lovely shiny badge you have there. Did you shine it yourself? Thank you for your service. May I sniff your holster?”
I decide, “To hell with it. I’ll go out tomorrow.”
Who knew going to the convenient stores of Speedway would be such a hassle and require so many decisions to be made? Certainly not me before I became a gun nutter. I blame George W. Bush, Dick Cheney, Halliburton, and Big Oil.
Thank God for his son, and that he will soon save us all and take care of us and fix all our problems. Heck, before too long, we won’t even need our guns any more, and we can just turn them in and be all happy and ****…
That’s what I think will happen anyways.
[FONT="]Maybe.[/FONT]