“Used to be a mother of four guns could reasonably expect her little firearms would grow up, get high-capacity magazines, maybe a laser sight, and perhaps even a silencer and maybe hook up with a guy with a concealed carry permit, who polishes them, keeps them under his pillow, and caresses them when the wind blows the tree branches against the window in the dark hours of the night.”
Judith Johnson, an average suburban owner of four lethal weapons, is looking sadly out the window of her kitchen, as a television in the next room displays images of American high school students demanding gun control.
“But not anymore. Not with all these kids out there demanding they be protected from being shot at school. Sure, and who’s going to protect my guns? Other than the NRA and Ted Nugent, one of which can’t protect itself from some high schoolers and the other of whom can’t save a decent song from becoming a form of auditory torture. I just don’t know where to turn.”
Ms. Johnson and her family of latent lethality are not alone.
“What does it say about this country when hundreds of thousands of students organize themselves around an issue of personal safety, and mobilize, and peacefully demonstrate, and stand their ground despite massive pushback from well-resourced adults?” Asks Jim Jessop, owner of “Fear No Weevil” gun shop, which he operates out of an Alabama grocery store where he offers to shoot people’s steaks and ground beef to ensure it’s parasite free, and on Fridays gives away a free Glock with every turkey purchased, or purchasing.
“I just don’t know where this country is going sometimes. What kind of future are we leaving for our little guns when bump stocks are banned, and assault rifles are spoken of like they’re some sort of fire-spitting death machines? Hold ’em close, that’s all I have to say folks. It’s scary times to be a lethal weapon in this here country.”