Bits & Pieces

Spring is in full bloom here in the River City. Temps in the low 80's. Nice to be outside, and here I am inside. Shame a fella must make a living.

My Little Bit has been absent all week. I mentioned she is taking her Spring break with a couple of her cousins, both little girls about her age. They're having a blast. I miss her. But soon, very soon, she'll be back and will spend the weekend, through Monday night, with us.
Her parents and little brother, Sport Model, came over last evening and I fed the little booger raisins and yogurt. I wanted to make sure he filled his diaper. His father needs practice at changing same...

Killed an Armadillo last night. Went outside to bring in the cat. Flipped on the outside lights and the digger was in my herb garden. One shot to the head with a CB short and the sucker jumped cartwheels for ten minutes. I hate Armadillos, they undermine my house and fences. Guess I've shot ten or fifteen over the last two years. If any of you guys want some extra protein, give me a yell. I ship UPS.

My friend, Duke, came by a couple of days ago and left me two big bags of his pink grapefruit. I'd made a snide comment on his blog about my love of citrus after he'd posted a picture of all the fruit he'd picked. He took me serious. I've eaten grapefruit for the last two nights. Thanks, Bubba. You grow a mean and sweet grapefruit.

Last weekend, after I closed Saturday afternoon, Sweet Wife and yours truly took a drive. Since I hate the interstate highway systems we took a nice long secondary road trip. One of the odd aspects of the drive was the number of people on the shoulders of the road with stands packed with household items for sale. I guess its a sign of the times. I lost count of the number of people and their homemade posters touting their junk.

Then we came upon a flea market. If you are a Survivalist (or prepper) the flea market is a very valuable resource. I'm proud to say I walked away with only a couple of purchases.....a pound of shelled pecans, a bottle of water and a couple of sore feet. I did come across a beautiful piece of Wagner. A ten inch skillet of pure smooth cast iron. I still kick myself for not shelling out the forty two dollar price tag, certain I could of bargained it down a few dollars, because when we arrived home I hit Ebay and the prices listed there were all well above a hundred dollars. Sweet Wife said, "You don't need another skillet." She had a point. But, still....

The above picture is for my friend, Modern Day Redneck. Click to understand. Like I said, if you are a Survivalist and need cheap garden tools, flea markets are good bets. I came across one vendor with nothing but farm tools. He had one pile of shovels that numbered in the hundreds. Hoes (not the street variety) stacked deep, and tons of other items sure to please any wannabe backyard grower. 

One vendor sold only surplus military gear, some of it issued, most copies. Prices were steep. I passed. It's expensive to try and pass yourself off as a real veteran. Side note here: You'll notice true vets do not wear their hearts on their sleeves.  It's tacky. Just saying....

The one item I always seek at flea markets are ammo cans....didn't find a single one. That is strange. I can always use a few more. 

Did you notice that either Blogger or The Department of Justice removed the logo from my post of yesterday.......

Anyway, I've got to run. The Pimp just parked and wants inside.....I'll let you know.

Stephen

Dotgov

Yesterday I checked  Sitemeter for the first time in over three months. One hit stood out from the rest. A brief hello from the Justice Department. Nothing out of the norm. I get frequent visits from big brother, but this visit was unique.

The search words were - 'homemade shotguns.'  Their time onsite was less than two minutes.

Dear dot.gov, if you guys give me fair warning of future visits I shall do my very best to help you fellas out. I'll write an article in hopes you gain valuable advice on the construction of your very own homemade shotgun. I understand they're awful popular these days. As a throw away weapon, they're versatility during home raids
is priceless.

Just give me a yell.

Yours truly,
Stephen

'Nuff Said

I mean, isn't it the truth.

Stephen

Sorry

I went to the Dashboard to check the spam box and without clear thought, deleted most of the comments under my The Pimp post.

I'm sorry.

Feel free to come by and whip my butt.

Stephen

The Pimp

First, please understand I deal with many lower class people in my business. It's just a fact of life. The door to my business, though locked, can't discriminate. Their currency spends too.

Yesterday was busy and when the doorbell rang I barely bothered with a glance and simply reached and hit the release button for the lock. I gave out a quick, good morning, and returned to my work. I should have known. It was The Pimp.

He comes around a few times a year when his cash runs shallow and the girls just can't seem to market their product in a timely fashion. This mini-depression hasn't helped matters either. The Pimp runs a string of girls from the Beaches area of River City to the upper West side slums. He was once in partnership with his late father until that man became more interested in his wares and died of complications from overindulgence of same.

The Pimp likes to sell me handguns. I drive a hard bargain, and he knows it.

The Pimp isn't your typical stereotype. He's a skinny white man, fairly young, not quite six feet with shaggy short hair. He has a foul mouth. I don't like him.

Back to his visit.....unlike other occasions after entry in my shop, on this visit he remained silent. Perhaps it was the other customers, not sure. I gave him a nod and a quick flick of my finger and he quickly jumped and walked over. I said, "What is it today?"

He reaches into his left hand pocket and pulls out a little nickel Raven P-25. Then, "Hey, motherf@*^er, what 'ya give me for this?"

If ever a man needed a shotgun mouthwash, this dude is at the top of my list.

I asked my other customers to excuse me and reached and took The Pimp by the shoulder and showed him the way into my back office. I gently explained to him this is my business and I liked desecration in all things related to private firearms sales, and this was indeed private. There wasn't a doubt in my mind the little pea-shooter was probably acquired through illegal means. At least it still had its serial number. Truthfully, I don't give a damn, but I did have a hooplehead in the shop.

He nodded, as if he understood, and said, "Hey, man, give me a hundred dollars."

I laughed. He wiped his nose, ran his hands through his hair, and then came back with, "Ah, man, come on. It's worth it."

Me, "No it isn't. It isn't worth more than half book price. Even then they're hard to move (I fudged the truth a bit here) and I must make a small profit on it."

He thought about it a second, gave off a funk scented fidget, wiped his nose again, shuffled, then, "What 'ya give me for it?"

I gave him my figure.

Many people in the gun culture look down their collective noses at little handguns like this Raven. For good reason I might add. They weren't the best for quality, many thousands were produced from 1970 until about 1991, and the company ceased production of the P-25 in 1984. Yet, they have value and purpose in certain situations.

The .25 caliber is nothing more than a gut buster. It works, if the handgun functions properly. I'd already checked it out. The magazine (they are always loaded, of course) held five rounds. The trigger worked. The slide moved freely. The finish was nice and bright, and believe it or not, they move quickly. The secret is to purchase them at as low a cost as possible.

Back to The Pimp. "Hey, motherf*&#ker, you be trying to rip me off."

I'm a patient man. Shame of it is my best friend, Duke, had just left the shop. He would have liked The Pimp too. After The Pimp's last exchange I calmly explained to him if he called me that again I'd bust his kneecaps. Like that.

Again, I gave him my figure. Said I didn't have time for his silly games. He held out his hand. I gave him a fraction of his asking price.

Then, "Hey, man, I gotta another one I'll bring tomorrow. It's a forty, man. I'll really work with you on that one, okay."

I said, "Sure. But, be careful when you walk into my shop. I may not be in as good a mood as I am today."

Pimps - they're the same the world over.

Stephen

Thanks & Welcome

A sweet young lady clicked my follower button and I'd like to thank and welcome her. She's the Bullseye Babe. She's new to our gun culture, a young woman tender to all things gunny. Let's give her a hand and a big welcome. Show her how nice I know you all are and take a moment and run over and say hello.

My new friend, I promise to always answer any comment you leave. And, Bullseye, when you visit scan down my blog list and you'll find many other nice ladies with a penchant for firearms. Trust me, you'll find hours of wonderful reading loaded with great advice.

Again, thanks and welcome, you are now among friends.

Stephen

Too Busy

I'll post a few items later this afternoon or tonight. I'm just too busy today, which is good.

Please, standby.

The air is rich with the smell of money....

Stephen