Dennis Marks hesitantly entered the dark alleyway behind the local burger joint. He was more than a little nervous, never having done something like this before. A man wearing a trench coat lit a cigarette, drawing Dennis' attention. Was this the man who had phoned him earlier, telling him his package was ready?
Awhile ago Dennis had decided it made sense to get a good one if you don't have one. A firearm, that is. He determined then that he would acquire one at a gun show or from a private seller to legally avoid the roadblocks put in place to hassle innocent people. Then the authorities couldn't come for his weapon and steal it. Because they wouldn't know he had one.
Dennis ultimately decided to go the cautious route and purchase a gun from a private source. Someone might see him at a gun show and report his purchase to the Obama gun grabbing gestapo. "You the guy I spoke with earlier about a private sale?" Dennis inquired, approaching the man. "You got my cash?" the man replied. "It's right here" Dennis answered, drawing a wad of bills out of his jacket pocket. "Here is your item" the man whispered, producing a shiny gun from inside his coat.
Dennis turned the firearm over and over in his hands, mesmerized by how it sparkled in the moonlight. "It's gorgeous" Dennis exclaimed, close to breaking down and weeping with joy. "The serial number has been filed off, making it untraceable" the stranger revealed, shoving a box of ammo into Dennis' quivering hands. "These are hollow points. They're designed to rip through the standard bullet proof vest. Useful if some jackbooted agent of the State tries to steal your weapon".
"In violation of my due process and 2nd amendment rights, which I love", Dennis concurred. "Well, I've got to be going" the man said, dropping his cancer stick and extinguishing it with the heel of his boot. "Thank you God" Dennis remarked as the man turned and left. "I will treasure this beauty for the rest of my life". Finally Dennis felt fully empowered to defend himself, which is a basic human right. Now he could finally stop worrying about the violent thugs who were coming to get him.
Frankly Dennis couldn't believe he had lasted so long without a gun, what with all the worthless poor people who wanted something for nothing. And would shoot him dead to get it. Mostly young Black thugs. They frightened Dennis immensely. They were worse than wild animals. Dennis knew this because he'd seen it on Fox News. A young Black thug stole cigarillos in a strong-arm robbery. The cop who confronted the violent felon was forced to gun him down when he charged, intending to (continue) violently assaulting him. It was obvious to Dennis that this thug was likely berserking, high on marijuana.
Because of this Dennis spent many nights pacing the floor, sick with worry. And checking and rechecking his locks. The incidents of Black thug violence were clearly on the rise. It was only a matter of time before they came for him. He knew then the time was right to acquire a firearm for his own protection. He was also afraid Vincent Vanderschmidt might try to kill him, but that was another matter.
In any case, now that Dennis had his gun he could defend himself against anyone who came for him. That night he placed the weapon under his pillow. After polishing and cleaning it until the nickel plating shown brilliantly. "You are a beauty" Dennis exclaimed, holding up the gun so he could admire it properly.
"Thank you" came a reply. Huh? "Who said that?!", Dennis screamed, looking about frantically. Was there an intruder in his domicile? Quickly Dennis reached for his box of ammo, his hands shaking in anticipation. Would tonight be the night he gunned down his first violent thug? "Don't worry" the same voice said in a soothing tone. "It's me, your gun" Dennis' gun told him.
"A talking gun? I must have gone nuts", Dennis lamented. "No way, you're one of the sanest people on the planet", Dennis' gun assured him. "Trust me concerning who the nut is according to guns". "OK, I will" Dennis acquiesced. Then he went to bed, exhausted after a long week of very little sleep. "I'm going to place you under my pillow for safekeeping" Dennis told Magnum PI, which is what Dennis' weapon said it's name was.
Hours passed as Dennis slumbered. "Wake up, Dennis" Magnum shouted, rousting Dennis from his sleep. Withdrawing his weapon from under his pillow Dennis drowsily asked, "what's the problem, Magnum?". "I heard something. Possibly an intruder" Magnum explained. Dennis looked around but saw nothing. The sun was up, however, so Dennis decided to rise from his bed and check his windows and locks for signs of intrusion. Then Dennis heard a knocking at the door, which meant someone was on his porch!
Dennis had many no trespassing signs posted, including several facing the road. Therefore anyone approaching his property had fair warning. Dennis flipped off the safety on Magnum and approached his front door. "It's the mailman, I need your signature on a package" a voice on the other side of the door said.
An agent of one of the socialist agencies of the Federal Government (just one of the many socialist agencies/programs that should be abolished)? Dennis didn't buy it. Probably a ruse so that the jackbooted governmental enforcers could steal his newly acquired weapon. Perhaps the NSA had been listening in during his phone call? Not that it mattered. Dennis had the right to fire given the fact that his no trespassing signs gave intruders warning. This individual was violating that warning - and on Dennis' property against his will.
"Shoot!" Magnum urged him. "Obama's agents are here to steal me!". Dennis raised his gun and fired through the door. Then he blew across the barrel, as he had seen actors in action movies do. How cool. Hearing a body thud, Dennis remarked "smoked him". Smiling, Dennis proudly strode toward the door, eager to see the results of the first exercise of his basic human right. Opening the door Dennis noted a man dressed in a mailman's uniform lying on the ground, a large hole in his chest. The man, however, was not dead. Blood trickled out of his mouth as he gurgled and struggled to speak.
"Didn't you see the signs?" Dennis screamed. "You are on my property unlawfully and I am therefore within my rights to shoot" Dennis added, pointing Magnum at the man's head and firing a second time. "Good job!" Magnum congratulated him. "Indeed" Dennis agreed. "I defended my basic human rights good. Now to dispose of the body. Not because, as a law abiding gun owner I did anything wrong, but because I wish to avoid harassment and hassle placed there by out of line legislators".