I was pretty tired this morning and had a hard time waking up as my brain was still walking in mud. I flipped on the radio and heard that the Supreme Court had ruled that the 2nd Amendment is an individual right and doesn't have to be exercised within the limitations of a state militia. Then I took a quick shower.
Turning the water off I stepped out onto the now wet floor and began drying my bits and pieces. With my body reasonably clean and getting dryer with each stroke of the towel I began to feel more clear headed. I lumbered over to the walk-in closet and realized that I felt some relief that the handguns I had in the house were really the tools with which I needed to exercise my rights. These guns will now act in the same manner that my computer does as it assists me in exercising my 1st Amendment right to blog.
The only reasonable thing I could do on this morning was to holster up after slipping on some pants and throwing over a shirt. I could feel with nervous anticipation that this was going to be a special morning.
After grabbing a bite out the door I had to make a stop on the way to work and get gas. $56 was the damage to fill up my small economical sedan. "I never believed my car would ever hold $56 dollars worth of gas." I said out loud.
Within earshot another gas customer driving a Mercedes agreed with me. From her appearance and ample jewelry, that also included a canary diamond ring on her fat finger, I decided that her empathy was good, but her financial assistance would be better. After all if John McCain can take $1 from every American to pay someone for making a super-battery, why can't I take a few bucks from someone to help fill my tank?
I took out my Colt .38 Special snub-nose and pointed it right at her face. I was so jazzed about the court ruling this morning I couldn't remember if I had loaded the gun or not. "I need $60 for the gas and to buy myself some lunch later today." I figured an even number would be better than asking for just $56.
The woman nervously put up her hands and said she wasn't carrying any cash. I was so pissed because I didn't have time to follow her to an ATM or I would be late for work. So I did what the Supreme Court and our founding fathers wanted me to do. I fired.
Click. I pulled the double-action trigger several times until all six cylinders of the revolver told me the same thing. No bullets.
I was angry at myself and angry with this woman. I could've pistol whipped her and believe me, I wanted to. But the 2nd Amendment was not about the simple assault of hitting someone repeatedly with a blunt object and slipping the precious stone from one of her plump meat sticks. It was not about merely carrying the weapon it was about discharging it.
I told her to just forget it. I returned the gas cap and closed the small access door and got back into my car. I was glad I didn't lose my cool and strike her with the gun. After all, I'm not a thug. I'm a patriot.