Ain’t She Sexxy?


Went with the Husband In Law to the gun store yesterday to pick up his new Springfield XDM, and while he was filling out the requisite paperwork, I heard a faint but insistent voice calling my name.

At first I thought it was the Walther P22 target pistol they had in the case. I’d shot TOTWTYTR’s up in Bahstan, and fell deeply in lust with it, but then I thought, “Nah AD, you saw one the other day with the extra barrel included for fifty bucks less than this one, and you resisted her charms then.”

And then the voice got louder, and a vision of perforated soda cans and bricks of cheap ammo clouded my vision for a bit. When it cleared, there she was, winking her Tritium sights at me and purring throatily.

There was but one thing to do: liberate her from that cold, sterile glass case and give her a warm and loving home.


I was powerless.

Powerless, I tell you.

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