Thursday, October 23, 2008

AMMENDMENT NUMBER TWO

Redneck here. Reno-area redneck writin’.

Second-amendment lovin’, gun slingin’ redneck.

Didn’t grow up that way. Never intended on bein’ that way. But here I am: a gun safe in the closet, a duffel of ammo downstairs, and a hot weapon within abed arms' reach.

Shortly after the Mormon equivalent to I Dos, the husband (the one I ain’t got), announced the need for a weapon. Protection an' all. And as a college graduation gift to himself, he acquired one. This in spite of my protests. (Aha! A battle he won. Moderate amount of guilt assuaged.)


So since I’ve no choice in the matter (I did win on the no TV front, and that’s consolation enough), I’m pleased with our weaponization and have become my own form of advocate. It’s my right to keep and bear arms, I say. So I’m gonna.

It pleases him. The nameless husband. Pleases him such that I believe that watching me slap a mag in the butt and rack the slide is akin to foreplay.

Bein' the second amendment slut I am, I want more target practice. 'Cause tell you what: Mr. Burglarman breaks into my house, alarm a-blarin’, I absolutely will blow his freaking brains out.

2 comments:

birdonthelawn said...

that graphic is insane!i love it!

M to the E to the R to the I said...

Amen, Sister. I just have about 6 cans of pepper spray hidden around my house and car. I need something that will really scare them away though (Scare them or injure them if needs be). Soon enough...