Lord Long Rod
Diamond Member
- Jan 17, 2023
- 7,706
- 8,122
- 2,138
- Banned
- #1
My buddy, T-bone, and myself went down to a gun show held locally. We was hoping to get in on that thar “gun show loophole” the liberal media is always crying about. Over the years I dun did buy a lot of guns at these here gun shows. But I ain’t never dun did hear bout no “loophole”. They always run a background check on me. Frankly, I don’t knowd what they is talking about. I am thinking maybe they keep it real secret like so they can hide the deals for really good buyers. Well sir, this year I aimed at figuring it out!
This year’s gun show was held two towns over, in Sasquatch Ridge in the auditorium at Mothman Middle School. Old T-bone and I were busy perusing when I happened upon a nice Smith and Wesson Model 29 .44 magum, just like old Dirty Harry used to make some punk bastard’s day back in his first movie. I looked her over real good. There were a lil patch of rust on the barrel. I started worrying that there may be rust under the bluing too. I asked the vender how much. He shot back, “That’ll be 25 hundy, brother!!” I knowd right then that this were a shyster sumbitch.
I figured the piece were bout $1,500.00, but then reduced some on account of the rust situation. I leaned closer to the seller and asked, “Hey there, buddy, how bout you giving me one of them thar gun show loophole discounts?” That fella acted like he didn’t knowd nothing bout what I was talkin bout. I tried to explain myself, but the seller insisted that there was no such thing as a gun show loophole. Fed up, I decided I wasn’t gonna pay the price he was asking, especially not with the rust on the barrel. Then I noticed the sumbitch’s name tag on his shirt. It sed “Andy Goldstein”. I nodded and sed, “Uh huh…”, then walked away.
I told old T-bone that I was ready to get the fuck outa that place. “Come on now, Rod! Let’s not leave yet! I think we ought to get us something while we are here”, sed T-bone. Just then, I spied a black pistol sittin out on another dealer’s table that caught my eye. I got me a closer look. It was a crazy lookin contraption. It were one of those common black plastic-like autoloaders, you know, which try to look like a Glock. But this here piece was jest a slight bit different. Plus, it had writing on the slide that said “Yeet Cannon”.
I looked over at T-bone and asked, “What the fuck is a Yeet Cannon, T-bone?” But old T-bone just shrugged his shoulders. Then I saw the price tag on the thang: $139.99. I thought, “Goddamn!! That there is a fucking STEAL!!!” T-bone saw my eyes light up. He started trying to talk me out of it. “Come on, Rod, we don’t have any idea what that damn thang is or whether it be any good”, he said. But I was hooked.
I turned to T-bone and said, “Well sir, whatever it is, it can’t be worse than a fucking Taurus pistol, can it?” T-bone took off his CAT hat and scratched his head. Then he replied, “Well, no. I don’t guess it could be WORSE than a goddamned old Taurus. You got me there.” I continued, telling him that a Taurus of the same type would cost twice as much as this here “Yeet Cannon”. T-bone again had to admit that I had a valid point.
Upon further examination, I discovered that the pistol were made by some company called “Hi Point”. T-bone asked if that was one of those guns the gang bangers in the hood use when they are robbing liquor stores and such. I replied, “Goddamn it, T-bone. How the fuck would I know THAT?!?” Sensing my agitation, T-bone remained silent for the rest of the deal.
The old salesman walked up just then. I immediately checked his name tag. It said “Sheetrock Bill”. I knowd right away we were in business! I asked Bill if he could do me any better on the price. He thought fer a moment. Then I launched my coup d’grace. I leaned in to Bill and asked “How bout ya’ll give me one of them thar gun show loop hole discounts?”
Old Sheetrock Bill chuckled, then said, “Partner, you got yourself a deal! Tell ya what I am gonna do. If you will just take that sumbitch and get it outa here, I will give it to ya fer free!!!” I was so shocked I let out a big old fart. I mumbled, “You got yerself a deal, Bill”. Bill threw that sumbitch in a bag and gave it to me. I walked out the door with my prize and never did have to part with even a dollar. I felt like I had been touched by the hand of God Himself.
On the drive home I told T-bone, “SEE?!? I KNEW IT!! I FUCKING KNEW IT!!!! THERE IS A GUN SHOW LOOPHOLE!!! AND I JEST GOT IT!!!!!” It was like I just conjured up a good old boy spell and “POOF!” a free gun appeared!!! I was the happiest I ever dun been since I beat that habitual DUI rap back in ’82!!!
Old T-bone grabbed some 9mm bullets out of the glove box in my truck, loaded that sumbitch up, and we took turns firing it out the window of the truck on the drive home. “BANG!! BANG!!!! BANG!!!!!!”
We dun did have a problem with jamming though. Ever 2-3 shots the sumbitch would have a FTF or a FTE jam. T-bone suggested it was the shitty cheap ammo I bought down at the flea market. I usually shoot Hornady ammo. But the only thing I could find at the flea market was something called “Horny” ammo. “You is probably right”, I said. I’ll go over to Walmart tonight and get the good stuff!!!
Now, gentle reader, it is at this point that shit started to get weird. I eventually lost interest in my Hi Point. I posted pics of my new gun on a Facebook group to which I belong and I caught all sorts of shit from my brother gun enthusiasts. I admit now that I dun up and got myself fucked on this here deal. Old T-bone was right. These here thangs are shit. I had to tell my FB group that it was just a big old joke I was playing on them in order to save face. So that piece of shit ended up in the bottom drawer of my nightstand, where I ignored it for several weeks. Then the dark shit started happening.
The first thang that happened was this. One night I came home late from the Wendigo Tavern, drunker than a Pelosi. I found that Hi Point going through my valuables in the safe. “What in tarnation do ya’ll think you is doin?!?”, I demanded to know. Then it spoke to me. Yep, that’s right. That damned old Yeet Cannon spoke to me, like a human being. It said, “Yo man!! Don’t be trippin’, dog!! I was just, you know, helping you organize all your shit, ya dig?”
Well, that whole incident kind of freaked me out. It was one thing that the gun developed sentience and started talking to me. But it is an entirely different matter that it was going through my shit and LIE to me about it. I decided that I had to keep a close eye on this thang.
After that, little things started happening. I would find menthol cigarette butts on my driveway. Weird items would show up on my grocery list, like Fanta grape soda and chicken necks. In the middle of the night my radio would turn on by itself and play that ghetto trash, booga-booga music. I knew the source, of course. It was that damned old Hi Point gun I dragged home from the gun show!
I tried to get rid of it. I tried selling it online, but nobody wanted to buy it. I tried giving it away too. I even offered to PAY people to take it from me. But there were no takers. One night I was talking to T-bone on the tellyphone about the situation. I was telling him, “Yeah, buddy. I think I am gonna have to just take it down to the river and toss it in to get rid of it. It is making my life a living hell.”
Suddenly, I heard a noise to my right. I looked. There is were!!! That damned old Hi Point had HEARD me!!!! And it looked none too pleased with what it heard me say. By this time it had gotten really militant. It had even grown an oversized afro hairdo. It said, “Oh. So that’s how its gonna be, huh?” Then it turned and left the living room. I was absolutely horrified because I was unsure what it was capable of doing.
I had been taking care of it, like one would a stray dog. But lately it had been staying out late at night. Sometimes it came home drunk. Sometimes it would be covered in blood. Then one night about a month ago it came home all bloody and dragging a sack full of some shit. I asked him what it had in the sack, but he just yelled at me and told me to mind my own “cracker business”. I was too terrified to put my foot down. Later, after Hi Point passed out from his malt liquor, I checked the bag. It was full of all sorts of jewelry. It was so odd.
The next day while reading the newspaper I happened upon a story about a “smash and grab” robbery down at Rosenberg’s Jewelry. Of course, I knew who was to blame. I tried to deny it to myself for some time. But there was no denying that Hi Point was to blame. Deep down, I knew it was him.
Then the worst thing yet happened. I still have trouble talking about it. To be completely candid, I am still seeing a professional today in an attempt to exorcise the trauma I suffered as a result. Here is what happened. Me and my buddy, Cooter, had been out all night spotlighting (and shooting) deer. We tore through a case of Pabst Blue Ribbon and a half gallon of Jack Black. I got home around sunrise, exhausted. I fell into bed and immediately passed out.
At some point after that I woke up. I felt something on my cheek. It was Hi Point. He was sitting on the bed next to day, stroking my cheek and having a wide grin on his face. It said, “You did real good boy.” I asked him what he meant by that. Hi Point laughed. I felt a cold breeze flow over my body. Then I noticed that I was nude. I had not gone to bed nude. But now I was bare-assed naked! Hi Point continued stroking my face.
I noticed a bitter taste in my mouth. There was something on my tongue. I kind of spit it out into my hand. It was black dust. I did not understand what this meant. I looked at Hi Point and he busted out laughing. I looked back down at my hand again. Then it hit me. I had carbon dust in my mouth!! I HAD HI POINT … IN MY MOUTH!!!
I jumped up and ran into the bathroom. I looked at myself in the mirror. My naked body was covered in black dust!!! That sumbitch had been blowing loads all over me!! Then Hi Point said, “Come on back, bitch! It’s time for Round Two! Heh heh heh …” I knowd then what had happened. Hi Point had sexually assaulted me in my sleep! I locked myself in the bathroom, turned on the shower and got the water as hot as I could get it. Then I layed in the bottom of the shower in fetal position as the water washed over me. I stayed in there for what seemed like forever. I heard Hi Point out in the bedroom yelling and braking shit.
After a couple of hours, when things had quieted down outside, I managed to screw up enough courage to leave the bathroom. I figured that if I could get to my nightstand I could retrieve my loaded Smith .357 magum revolver for protection. I did just that. Hi Point was nowhere to be found. However, I did find a note it left for me, carved on the top of the nightstand. It said “Going out for menthols and lube. Be back soon, princess”. I got dressed quickly. I knew what I had to do. I was going to lie in wait and then blast Hi Point back to hell as soon as it stepped foot back in my house.
Well sir, I waited and waited. But Hi Point never returned home. I was up all night waiting on the sumbitch. At 6:00 a.m. I heard the morning newspaper hit my front porch. I went out to retrieve it, gun still firmly in my grasp. I then took it to the kitchen and laid it on the table while I made myself some coffee. A couple minutes later and I was sitting at my kitchen table with a steaming cup of joe. I opened up the newspaper and started to read.
Right there on the front page of the paper was the headline “Hi Point Murders Convenience Store Clerk When Told Store Had no Menthol Cigarettes”. The story said that police responded and found Hi Point two blocks away at another convenience store buying lottery tickets. When they confronted Hi Point it opened fire on police, who then returned fire, killing it on the spot.
While I was shocked, I was also overcome with relief. My nightmare was finally over! Then a thought hit me and I went to the bedroom to check my wallet. It was just as I feared!!! All of my fucking money and credit cards were gone! That sumbitch!!
This year’s gun show was held two towns over, in Sasquatch Ridge in the auditorium at Mothman Middle School. Old T-bone and I were busy perusing when I happened upon a nice Smith and Wesson Model 29 .44 magum, just like old Dirty Harry used to make some punk bastard’s day back in his first movie. I looked her over real good. There were a lil patch of rust on the barrel. I started worrying that there may be rust under the bluing too. I asked the vender how much. He shot back, “That’ll be 25 hundy, brother!!” I knowd right then that this were a shyster sumbitch.
I figured the piece were bout $1,500.00, but then reduced some on account of the rust situation. I leaned closer to the seller and asked, “Hey there, buddy, how bout you giving me one of them thar gun show loophole discounts?” That fella acted like he didn’t knowd nothing bout what I was talkin bout. I tried to explain myself, but the seller insisted that there was no such thing as a gun show loophole. Fed up, I decided I wasn’t gonna pay the price he was asking, especially not with the rust on the barrel. Then I noticed the sumbitch’s name tag on his shirt. It sed “Andy Goldstein”. I nodded and sed, “Uh huh…”, then walked away.
I told old T-bone that I was ready to get the fuck outa that place. “Come on now, Rod! Let’s not leave yet! I think we ought to get us something while we are here”, sed T-bone. Just then, I spied a black pistol sittin out on another dealer’s table that caught my eye. I got me a closer look. It was a crazy lookin contraption. It were one of those common black plastic-like autoloaders, you know, which try to look like a Glock. But this here piece was jest a slight bit different. Plus, it had writing on the slide that said “Yeet Cannon”.
I looked over at T-bone and asked, “What the fuck is a Yeet Cannon, T-bone?” But old T-bone just shrugged his shoulders. Then I saw the price tag on the thang: $139.99. I thought, “Goddamn!! That there is a fucking STEAL!!!” T-bone saw my eyes light up. He started trying to talk me out of it. “Come on, Rod, we don’t have any idea what that damn thang is or whether it be any good”, he said. But I was hooked.
I turned to T-bone and said, “Well sir, whatever it is, it can’t be worse than a fucking Taurus pistol, can it?” T-bone took off his CAT hat and scratched his head. Then he replied, “Well, no. I don’t guess it could be WORSE than a goddamned old Taurus. You got me there.” I continued, telling him that a Taurus of the same type would cost twice as much as this here “Yeet Cannon”. T-bone again had to admit that I had a valid point.
Upon further examination, I discovered that the pistol were made by some company called “Hi Point”. T-bone asked if that was one of those guns the gang bangers in the hood use when they are robbing liquor stores and such. I replied, “Goddamn it, T-bone. How the fuck would I know THAT?!?” Sensing my agitation, T-bone remained silent for the rest of the deal.
The old salesman walked up just then. I immediately checked his name tag. It said “Sheetrock Bill”. I knowd right away we were in business! I asked Bill if he could do me any better on the price. He thought fer a moment. Then I launched my coup d’grace. I leaned in to Bill and asked “How bout ya’ll give me one of them thar gun show loop hole discounts?”
Old Sheetrock Bill chuckled, then said, “Partner, you got yourself a deal! Tell ya what I am gonna do. If you will just take that sumbitch and get it outa here, I will give it to ya fer free!!!” I was so shocked I let out a big old fart. I mumbled, “You got yerself a deal, Bill”. Bill threw that sumbitch in a bag and gave it to me. I walked out the door with my prize and never did have to part with even a dollar. I felt like I had been touched by the hand of God Himself.
On the drive home I told T-bone, “SEE?!? I KNEW IT!! I FUCKING KNEW IT!!!! THERE IS A GUN SHOW LOOPHOLE!!! AND I JEST GOT IT!!!!!” It was like I just conjured up a good old boy spell and “POOF!” a free gun appeared!!! I was the happiest I ever dun been since I beat that habitual DUI rap back in ’82!!!
Old T-bone grabbed some 9mm bullets out of the glove box in my truck, loaded that sumbitch up, and we took turns firing it out the window of the truck on the drive home. “BANG!! BANG!!!! BANG!!!!!!”
We dun did have a problem with jamming though. Ever 2-3 shots the sumbitch would have a FTF or a FTE jam. T-bone suggested it was the shitty cheap ammo I bought down at the flea market. I usually shoot Hornady ammo. But the only thing I could find at the flea market was something called “Horny” ammo. “You is probably right”, I said. I’ll go over to Walmart tonight and get the good stuff!!!
Now, gentle reader, it is at this point that shit started to get weird. I eventually lost interest in my Hi Point. I posted pics of my new gun on a Facebook group to which I belong and I caught all sorts of shit from my brother gun enthusiasts. I admit now that I dun up and got myself fucked on this here deal. Old T-bone was right. These here thangs are shit. I had to tell my FB group that it was just a big old joke I was playing on them in order to save face. So that piece of shit ended up in the bottom drawer of my nightstand, where I ignored it for several weeks. Then the dark shit started happening.
The first thang that happened was this. One night I came home late from the Wendigo Tavern, drunker than a Pelosi. I found that Hi Point going through my valuables in the safe. “What in tarnation do ya’ll think you is doin?!?”, I demanded to know. Then it spoke to me. Yep, that’s right. That damned old Yeet Cannon spoke to me, like a human being. It said, “Yo man!! Don’t be trippin’, dog!! I was just, you know, helping you organize all your shit, ya dig?”
Well, that whole incident kind of freaked me out. It was one thing that the gun developed sentience and started talking to me. But it is an entirely different matter that it was going through my shit and LIE to me about it. I decided that I had to keep a close eye on this thang.
After that, little things started happening. I would find menthol cigarette butts on my driveway. Weird items would show up on my grocery list, like Fanta grape soda and chicken necks. In the middle of the night my radio would turn on by itself and play that ghetto trash, booga-booga music. I knew the source, of course. It was that damned old Hi Point gun I dragged home from the gun show!
I tried to get rid of it. I tried selling it online, but nobody wanted to buy it. I tried giving it away too. I even offered to PAY people to take it from me. But there were no takers. One night I was talking to T-bone on the tellyphone about the situation. I was telling him, “Yeah, buddy. I think I am gonna have to just take it down to the river and toss it in to get rid of it. It is making my life a living hell.”
Suddenly, I heard a noise to my right. I looked. There is were!!! That damned old Hi Point had HEARD me!!!! And it looked none too pleased with what it heard me say. By this time it had gotten really militant. It had even grown an oversized afro hairdo. It said, “Oh. So that’s how its gonna be, huh?” Then it turned and left the living room. I was absolutely horrified because I was unsure what it was capable of doing.
I had been taking care of it, like one would a stray dog. But lately it had been staying out late at night. Sometimes it came home drunk. Sometimes it would be covered in blood. Then one night about a month ago it came home all bloody and dragging a sack full of some shit. I asked him what it had in the sack, but he just yelled at me and told me to mind my own “cracker business”. I was too terrified to put my foot down. Later, after Hi Point passed out from his malt liquor, I checked the bag. It was full of all sorts of jewelry. It was so odd.
The next day while reading the newspaper I happened upon a story about a “smash and grab” robbery down at Rosenberg’s Jewelry. Of course, I knew who was to blame. I tried to deny it to myself for some time. But there was no denying that Hi Point was to blame. Deep down, I knew it was him.
Then the worst thing yet happened. I still have trouble talking about it. To be completely candid, I am still seeing a professional today in an attempt to exorcise the trauma I suffered as a result. Here is what happened. Me and my buddy, Cooter, had been out all night spotlighting (and shooting) deer. We tore through a case of Pabst Blue Ribbon and a half gallon of Jack Black. I got home around sunrise, exhausted. I fell into bed and immediately passed out.
At some point after that I woke up. I felt something on my cheek. It was Hi Point. He was sitting on the bed next to day, stroking my cheek and having a wide grin on his face. It said, “You did real good boy.” I asked him what he meant by that. Hi Point laughed. I felt a cold breeze flow over my body. Then I noticed that I was nude. I had not gone to bed nude. But now I was bare-assed naked! Hi Point continued stroking my face.
I noticed a bitter taste in my mouth. There was something on my tongue. I kind of spit it out into my hand. It was black dust. I did not understand what this meant. I looked at Hi Point and he busted out laughing. I looked back down at my hand again. Then it hit me. I had carbon dust in my mouth!! I HAD HI POINT … IN MY MOUTH!!!
I jumped up and ran into the bathroom. I looked at myself in the mirror. My naked body was covered in black dust!!! That sumbitch had been blowing loads all over me!! Then Hi Point said, “Come on back, bitch! It’s time for Round Two! Heh heh heh …” I knowd then what had happened. Hi Point had sexually assaulted me in my sleep! I locked myself in the bathroom, turned on the shower and got the water as hot as I could get it. Then I layed in the bottom of the shower in fetal position as the water washed over me. I stayed in there for what seemed like forever. I heard Hi Point out in the bedroom yelling and braking shit.
After a couple of hours, when things had quieted down outside, I managed to screw up enough courage to leave the bathroom. I figured that if I could get to my nightstand I could retrieve my loaded Smith .357 magum revolver for protection. I did just that. Hi Point was nowhere to be found. However, I did find a note it left for me, carved on the top of the nightstand. It said “Going out for menthols and lube. Be back soon, princess”. I got dressed quickly. I knew what I had to do. I was going to lie in wait and then blast Hi Point back to hell as soon as it stepped foot back in my house.
Well sir, I waited and waited. But Hi Point never returned home. I was up all night waiting on the sumbitch. At 6:00 a.m. I heard the morning newspaper hit my front porch. I went out to retrieve it, gun still firmly in my grasp. I then took it to the kitchen and laid it on the table while I made myself some coffee. A couple minutes later and I was sitting at my kitchen table with a steaming cup of joe. I opened up the newspaper and started to read.
Right there on the front page of the paper was the headline “Hi Point Murders Convenience Store Clerk When Told Store Had no Menthol Cigarettes”. The story said that police responded and found Hi Point two blocks away at another convenience store buying lottery tickets. When they confronted Hi Point it opened fire on police, who then returned fire, killing it on the spot.
While I was shocked, I was also overcome with relief. My nightmare was finally over! Then a thought hit me and I went to the bedroom to check my wallet. It was just as I feared!!! All of my fucking money and credit cards were gone! That sumbitch!!
