This little gypsy gets around. It started with
- My son’s graduation in Arkansas.
- Then, an Alaskan cruise with my mom.
- Followed by a trip to Mexico with my husband
- Then, a journey to Idaho for my nephew’s wedding.
It was all fun. No guns.
Well, that’s all about to change.
At the end of October, I’ll fly to visit this graduated son of mine. He lives in Stillwater. Works fulltime as a certified tattletale. I know. I’ve read his stuff.
- Somebody got put in jail.
- Somebody got a blue ribbon at the fair.
- Some body started a fire and burned a forest down.
Somebody did this and somebody did that. I mean the guy’s just waiting for anything to happen so he can write it down and let the world know all about it.
You should see the kid. He writes like pencil lead is sprouting from his fingernails. His cellphone is almost a permanent fixture on the side of his head. He’s a Ripley’s Believe it or Not wannabe in the making.
But, that’s not what this blog is all about. It’s really about
- packing heat
- walking heavy
- holding iron
- toting buckshot.
By the time I visit my son, everyone in Oklahoma will be allowed to carry a gun.
Just read the Stillwater Press. That’s where my son tells all he knows. November 1st is when the law goes into effect.
So, I’ve been thinking. Maybe if I
- wear a bullet proof vest,
- never look anyone in the eye
- and stay out of Wal-mart on the weekends
I won’t have to carry a sweet little piece or haul around some little metal baby.
I’ll be OK.
You see, I’m just not given to violence. Certainly not shoot-outs. My modus operandi is more like
- “please and thank you”
- than “stop or I’ll shoot you full of holes”.
I am part Canadian after all.
It does come in handy. This politeness of ours.
You know, Buckshot Billy or Leadbottom Pete could start trouble down by the Rib Crib or the Chick-fil-A at any time.
Me? I’ll just politely step aside. Out of the way. Of course, everyone else in the vicinity certainly will fire their legally permitted guns.
At the bad guy.
And, possibly all shoot each other.
Imagine me, the last man standing. Or, should I say, laying down? Out of the line of fire.
- I’m not going rogue with Sarah Palin any time soon
- or coming out of the redneck closet just to visit one little town.
I’m gun free.
This works as long as I hit the dirt at any sign of trouble. Face down. Low to the ground.
Come to think of it, that was how the West was won.