So I gave you a teaser earlier this week about the post-to-come about the impending Zombie Apocalypse. Well, you clearly know my feelings on that, and so does The Hubs, and most all of my close friends. When I say I have an unnatural fear of the undead, I’m not kidding. Unfortunately, I’m being medicated for too many things, already, so the effects of said medication don’t trickle down to illogical fears. Not yet, at least.
When the crazy, disgusting, face-eating-event happened in Florida, I knew that the Apocalypse was upon us. In the early phases, of course. When it’s still new and people are shocked. But in the age of “Bath Salts” and “Petri Meat” and “Cloning”, we’re a cloned cow grown in a petri dish away from eating each other because we’re compelled to. Gross.
Because of this new resurgence of fear, I suggested to the Hubs that we get a handgun. He’s always wanted one. Or a shotgun. But I feel like a shotgun is harder to carry with you when you are running for your life from a flesh-eating-monster. Plus, I don’t know if I can shoot it. A handgun seems simpler. But I’m a total chick when it comes to this stuff. All I know is when someone wants to eat my flesh, I need something to shoot them with.
Off to an Outdoorsy-Stuff Store we went. The Hubs suggested I do the talking. I told him that I didn’t know if that was a good idea, because of my feelings on the whole buying decision. Maybe the guy behind the counter wouldn’t be helpful if he knew that I wanted to shoot the heads of the undead. He insisted, and off to the counter we went.
The Hubs wants a revolver. I’m on board with that because, although I know that a gun with a clip would be better for multiple zombie killing, I think revolvers look cool. And in seconds I was able to see how the whole gun works. Simplicity = good times.
We get to the counter, and it goes something like this:
Me: Woooooo… look at all of those!
Soon-to-be-confused-salesperson: Hi there. How can I help you?
Me: We’re looking for a handgun gun. (Duh… we’re at a gun counter. Obviously we aren’t looking for sleeping bags.)
Soon-to-be-confused-salesperson: What would you be using it for? (Dumb question…. we’re planning to shoot it. AND…. what the hell else is a handgun good for besides shooting people?) Do you have a style of gun in mind?
Me: We’re looking at a revolver. Something with the firing power to take a zombie’s head off, in the event of the impending zombie apocalypse.
The Hubs: ……………..
The awkward silence went on like this for a few seconds. I had to break it.
Me: Oooooooo – that one looks like the Noisy Cricket from Men in Black!
The Hubs: That’s a .38 Special.
Me: I like their music.
The Hubs: …………….
Weirded-out-salesperson gets it off the display area.
Me: It’s adorable.
The Hubs: It’s hard to shoot.
Trying-to-stay-engaged-salesperson: The accuracy is poor.
As we’re discussing this, The Hubs is showing me how to look in it, where to load bullets, etc. I’m fascinated. We also look at a couple of other guns, and The Hubs chooses the one he likes, but balks at the price.
Me: Oooohhhhh… what about the Dirty Harry gun?
Losing-interest-salesperson: Here you go. (literally walking away and trying to look occupied with anything else)
The Hubs: No way you can shoot this one. It’s very powerful.
Me: But it looks so cool! (At this point, weirded-out-salesperson AND The Hubs have checked the gun thoroughly and have found it to be unloaded. And because I am a joiner, I check it, too. No bullets. It’s safe.) Look! (And I point it arbitrairily to show how cool I look).
The Hubs: (pushing it down and away from the now-fully-irritated-salesperson) You can’t point it at people.
Me: Why? I’ve checked it. You’ve checked it. He’s checked it. (I wave the barrel of the gun toward the increasingly-angry-salesperson).
The Hubs: Let’s go.
He politely thanks the compltely-annoyed-salesperson and we leave. Then we went through the lessons we learned:
- Revolvers are cool.
- Noisy Crickets are really only science fiction. But .38 Special isn’t just a band.
- Salespeople who don’t believe in zombies will be the first to get eaten.
- The Dirty Harry gun is *way* too big for me.
- Don’t, under any circumstances, point a triple-checked, unloaded gun at anyone. It makes people nervous. Apparently.
We did go to another store where The Hubs did most of the talking. I eventually let it spill what my plans with the gun were, but this new salesguy was TOTALLY into it. He played along. Which was great. He probably has a chance against them because he’ll remember the crazy gal who predicted this in 2012.
I have saved a life. Yay me.