Mr. President, This is my tongue

Mr President, picture me with my tongue, in all its glory, protruding from my mouth in your direction.

Just to show you how much I don't care I made every effort to order a couple of spare twelve (that's 12) round magazines for my daily concealed carry handgun.

I forgot, you're a liberal bean sprout munching poodle walker so I shall write this in Ebonics...ready?

Today I told you to kiss my butt and purchased two more 'high capacity bullet holder clips.'

By the way I shall leave these nice normal capacity magazines in their packaging because as soon as your restrictions take place they will triple in price. So not only will I disobey your silly unconstitutional laws but will profit from the same.

I must admit my search for the two spare magazines took me a few minutes and three websites but find them I did, in stock no less. They should arrive soon.

Trust me, your disregard for our nations Constitution and God given rights has created a nation of outlaws.

Congratulations.

(For those in the know - Numrich.)

Stephen

Embarrassed

I stepped from the shower this morning and felt good. After a quick shave and slap of smelly stuff I dressed quickly and walked out to the kitchen. Sweet Wife had lunch bags ready. She turned to greet me with a big smile plastered on her face. Then she began to laugh.

"What's so funny?"

She placed a hand over her mouth, and I swear, was red in the face. After a few seconds she regained her composure but continued to giggle.

"What?"

"Oh, nothing. Are you ready for work?"

"Yes."

"Are you sure? Haven't forgotten anything, have you."

My satchel is where I'd placed it the night before and I see my carry piece and spare mags are on the counter. My boots stand in the laundry room where I'd left them and my hat and cover shirt are in place, ready. I was fairly certain I could hit the street and boogie as soon as my boots were laced and had the truck keys in hand.

Again, she doubles over in laughter. I can't help but smile, after all, I'd had a full nights sleep; the first in days and I felt good. Why in the world was she laughing at me.

Screw it, I thought, and turned and gathered my boots ready to stitch the laces. Back in the kitchen screams of laughter continued. Enough.

I walk back and stand like a chastised child and in my most sincere voice plead, "Please, Honey, why are you laughing at me?"

Between snorts, she walks over and gives me a sweet gentle kiss and said,

"Sweetheart, perhaps you should put on your pants."

Stephen 

Welcome Aboard and Good Morning

Good morning. As soon as my muse gets a kick start I'll write, something. I've been here in my office since well before daylight, have about five cups of coffee under my belt and still can't write. I blame it on the simple lack of sleep.

I wish to welcome and say thanks to Double Trouble. She's a new friend and follower. Double, if you have a blog please let me know and I will supply a link.

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

Until later,

Stephen

Thanks & Welcome

To my new friend and follower, Francis Lee. Francis is an Irishman living in England and writes the blog, The Angry Lurker.

Francis, I promise to always reply to your comments. At times it takes a few hours, even days when life intrudes, but trust me, I'll not forget you.

Again, thank you and welcome. You are now among friends.

Stephen

Tick, Tick, Said the Clock

It's a sad state of affairs when a man finds himself sorting ammunition at two in the morning. Just a few minutes ago I stood from where I'd been bent over an old ammo box, my hands filthy black. I moaned and glanced at the clock and asked it why in the name of all that's holy could I not sleep, perchance to dream.

It only replied, tick, tick, and tick.

Even the owls remain silent.

Stephen

Use It or Lose It

Please, click here and help fight for your Second Amendment rights. In only three easy steps you can send a letter to all your congresscritters and the yahoos in the White House. All made possible by Ruger.

Big tip of the hat to my friend and yours, K.

Thank you.

Stephen

Chocolate Dipped Ammunition

It's been over a year since I shook hands with a nice man after we'd made a deal on my purchase of his handgun and a box of mixed nine millimeter Luger. The box of ammunition was added to my ammo stash in my garage.

I forgot about it. Well, not really, but since it was a box of loose individual rounds, which I promised myself I'd sort later, it simply became lost to the business of life.

Last night I was kicked in the rear with boredom and so went out and began to dig into the mountain of my storage. I came upon the long forgotten cardboard box, glanced inside and made a snap decision to sort the rounds.

All are defensive loads, hollow points of many configurations from many different ammunition manufacturers; Smith and Wesson, Hornady, Speer, Winchester, Norma and many others. The mix included standard nine mil Luger, plus P, and plus P plus. Expensive stuff especially if purchased in today's current ammunition scare.

I went to my reloading bench and dug beneath and found several empty cartridge boxes and back inside the house set to work. About half way into the box I began to find certain individual rounds felt, well, sticky. Weird. I dug further into the box and came upon a mass of rounds stuck into a block of something gooey. This gooey mess gave a sweet smell. I pulled or should say, plucked, a few rounds and each seemed to be coated in caramel, a darkish caramel.

I went to the kitchen for a bowl and I then began to pick rounds from this mess and drop them into the bowl. The block of goo proved to be a huge chuck of candy. It had been neatly stashed or hidden some time in the past. The long Florida summer melted the candy, probably a tootsie roll, and the rest is history.

I'm positive this hidden treasure of candy was left by my Little Bit. I wasn't angry, quite the opposite, I chuckled as I mixed a small bowl of hot water and Dawn. Later, after I'd cleaned forty of fifty rounds of the gooey thick chocolate from my stash, I smiled. I could just picture the little girl as she pealed away the candy wrapper, took a quick bite and hesitate she might be caught with a before dinner snack hid the rest in Papa's old box of junk.

Lord, I miss her.

Stephen