I Bought An Awesome Gun That Makes Me Feel Like God, But I Hope I Never Have To Use I

I Bought An Awesome Gun That Makes Me Feel Like God, But I Hope I Never Have To Use It

By Tom Slaznik
February 23, 2010 | ISSUE 46•08




You never know when life could take a tragic turn. One moment you're sleeping comfortably in your home and the next you suddenly find yourself in a position where you have to protect your loved ones' very lives. It was that thought, as well as the admittedly awesome and glorious window display at Atkins Gun Shop, a display that seemed to call to me from on high, that led to my recent purchase of a Colt Python .357 Magnum revolver.



Believe me, I am not a gun person. Oh, sure, I played with cap guns and BB guns when I was a kid, but I never thought I would actually own a real one. But let me tell you, when I first felt the cold steel of this gun against my palm, it made me feel as if I had the strength of 10,000 charging centurions, as if I were capable of moving heaven and earth itself. I just hope I never have to fire the thing.



It is my earnest wish that this beautiful, beautiful gun and the godlike powers it bestows on its owner will stay locked away in a drawer forever, only to be used in the most dire of circumstances.
I will say, though, that this particular firearm is certainly something to behold. It has a mirror-polished stainless-steel finish and a "Python .357" insignia engraved on the chrome barrel that, to be honest, makes me feel invincible, as if the spirit of a warrior prince were flowing through me, urging me to punish all who lie trembling in my path.



That being said, a gun—even one this magnificent—should only be used for protection.



It's six-round cylinder, currently loaded with hollow-point 158-grain bullets, gives me a tremendous sense of…how should I put this…control? Yes, that's it. Complete and utter control. I can now bend time and space to my every whim and, with just one little tug of the trigger, fulfill all of my heart's darkest desires. But honestly, I can't foresee any situation in which I would ever need to flood this bespoiled land with waves of bullets so that we may cleanse the earth and start anew.



I live in a pretty safe neighborhood, so the gun will probably just sit in my drawer and collect dust. For that I am thankful. Then again, you never know when an intruder might feel it necessary to test the hand of God, in which case it's just comforting to know that I can reach into my nightstand and, with the aid of my steel hammer, transform into the mighty Thor and rain thunder and lightning down upon the iniquitous.


I can't even imagine shooting an animal, let alone a person! Seriously, could you see someone like me coolly removing a gun from my holster and pointing it at an individual, someone like my boss James or his vice president son, Peter, their faces turning a sickly white as they realize the control they once had over their destinies now belongs in the superhuman hands of another? My hands? The Angel of Death's hands?
Ha! Safety first, I always say.



Believe me, if it comes down to bringing mere mortals to their knees or just letting them walk all over me because I have a reputation as a pushover, I'm definitely going to choose the latter. Guns don't solve anything. They won't solve my problem with the dog next door who barks long into the night. And they certainly won't stop the teenagers on my block who get out of line during Halloween. And David Tressler—a man who often needs to be reminded of his place in the universal pecking order—guns could never solve my problem with David Tressler.



I am the King of Kings and the Lord of Lords. The blood of Apollo, Jupiter, and Christ Almighty now flows through my veins, and I will one day unleash my true vengeance, but only if provoked, and only as a last resort.
I don't even know how to work the safety yet.



It's funny, like I said earlier, I don't have any desire to fire this gun. But sometimes when I'm bored I'll take it out of the drawer, sit on my bed, and nuzzle my index finger next to its double-action trigger. The gun is an extension of my body, and the nerve endings in my fingers fall into a sublime kind of synchronicity with it. We breathe as one. The firearm is compelling me to push beyond all mortal fear and doubt, advising me to become the unstoppable force of nature I was destined to become, and to assume my rightful place as supreme judge of all mankind.



That's when I tell it to stop talking and let me get some sleep.



www.theonion.com/articles/i-bought-an-awesome-gun-that-makes-me-feel-like-go,11527/

 

lol the Onion has funny shit

 

That's a wonderful gun! I had a Colt .357 King Cobra that I wish I had never sold.