raxar
01-07-2012, 09:19 PM
after years of picking up all kinds of crap guns over the course of my "collecting" I had decided I was going to forego the saturday night specials and stick to high-class firearms. Then I found myself in my local shop yesterday and my dealer (pusher) struck my in my weakness with an offer I just couldn't ignore. a LNIB Davis .25 acp derringer and a very nice ( :wink: ) jennings j22 at the bargain rate of $100 for the pair. I was helpless, despite my entire soul crying out NO NO my hand thrust itself into my wallet with uncontrollable speed and thrust my credit card down with nearly enough force to break the counter's glass.
The next thing I remember I awoke, sticky and smelling of menthol cigarettes, lying on a bare spring mattress, clutching a bar napkin with nothing but a stranger's phone number scrawed on it. Filled with shame I made my way to a gun auction, just hoping I could redeem myself and forget the relapse.
And that's when I saw it. The primest example of a stallard arms model js I'd ever seen. The father of the mighty Hi-point, ugly as sin and housed in it's factory tupperware. Suddenly my hand flew though the air, off in the distance I hear $50? 60? 70? (I nod) 80? 90? (I nod) 100? 110? I nod yet again, praying that the other bidder will follow suit, that he will just stick it out until I realize my folly and return to pursuing proper guns. But he did not.
Now I sit here, bottle of scotch nearly empty, cold and naked from the hours I spend in the shower trying to wash off the dirt, but I can still feel it on my skin, like a thousand crawling insects....
The next thing I remember I awoke, sticky and smelling of menthol cigarettes, lying on a bare spring mattress, clutching a bar napkin with nothing but a stranger's phone number scrawed on it. Filled with shame I made my way to a gun auction, just hoping I could redeem myself and forget the relapse.
And that's when I saw it. The primest example of a stallard arms model js I'd ever seen. The father of the mighty Hi-point, ugly as sin and housed in it's factory tupperware. Suddenly my hand flew though the air, off in the distance I hear $50? 60? 70? (I nod) 80? 90? (I nod) 100? 110? I nod yet again, praying that the other bidder will follow suit, that he will just stick it out until I realize my folly and return to pursuing proper guns. But he did not.
Now I sit here, bottle of scotch nearly empty, cold and naked from the hours I spend in the shower trying to wash off the dirt, but I can still feel it on my skin, like a thousand crawling insects....