So Haz and I found ourselves in need of something beer-like to slake a building thirst after several hours of conversating and coming up with solutions for many of the world’s problems. And, since the current batch of homebrew won’t be ready for another few days we decided to go to a local purveyor of said beer-like product and purchase a couple of sixers of Red Stripe.
Haz knows the store owner well, having made similar purchases on numerous occasions over many years. In fact, Haz knows him well enough to know the guy packs a .32 semi-auto in an SOB holster.
As fate would have it, the owner was standing off to the side and we got a new cashier who didn’t happen to know the price of the Red Stripe. And as he tried to figure out what he should do, four other customers got in line behind Haz and me.
He finally asked the boss who looked over, saw it was Haz, and said something like, “Charge him double,” to which Haz replied: “Careful now… I can get to mine faster than you can get to yours.”
And that prompted the guy behind me to say, “And I can get to mine pretty fast, too.” And the guy behind him said, “Mine’s pretty handy, as well.” And the fellow behind him said, as he patted his beltline “Got mine right here, too.”
Then everybody had a laugh—except the last guy in line, probably a Democrat, who had no idea what anyone was talking about.
I had a giggle over the fact that out of 8 guys at the mini-mart (6 in line and 2 behind the counter), 6 were packing heat.
I love living in Florida.
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