MASTEROFMALICE
member
- Joined
- Aug 2, 2007
- Messages
- 711
I asked to see the special order catalog since I'm looking into picking up a .223 bolt action. As I'm looking through it I'm making small talk with the guy behind the counter, who is the regular gun guy.
He suddenly points at a Remington 870 and hits me with this piece of Confucious-like wisdom.
"Ya know, I'd love to get me one of those police-riot-shotguns, something like a forty caliber. POW POW POW! Heh. But my wife won't let me have one."
Upon hearing that last sentence I simply felt this overwhelming urge to find this woman and make love to her, as she may very well have saved someones life.
He suddenly points at a Remington 870 and hits me with this piece of Confucious-like wisdom.
"Ya know, I'd love to get me one of those police-riot-shotguns, something like a forty caliber. POW POW POW! Heh. But my wife won't let me have one."
Upon hearing that last sentence I simply felt this overwhelming urge to find this woman and make love to her, as she may very well have saved someones life.