They Walk Among Us

This is not the actual person, but it’s pretty close.  Don’t call me with stuff like this at 10:15 on a Saturday morning.  I haven’t had my coffee yet.

Creepy Stranger:  “You ever shot a Desert Eagle?”

Me:  “Yep.”

Creepy Stranger:  “That’s bad ass, ain’t it?”

Me:  “It’s…um…different.  Can I help you with something?”

Creepy Stranger:  “You know, I carried one when I was in Desert Storm, or as we called it, ‘Desert Joke.’  I was in the first chopper that touched down.”

Me:  “Folks who served there might not appreciate…”

Creepy Stranger:  “I can say what I want.  I was Special Force.

(Okay.  Off to the races!)

“Um…really?  What was your MOS?”

“One shot, one kill.”

That was your MOS?”

“The less you know, the better.”

“Is there alphanumeric code for that?  I don’t recall ‘One Shot One Kill’ being…”

“Yeah, 47 Peter to you, smart guy. [47 Papa, maybe?]”

“Sorry, I’m just confused.  I heard ‘Special Force’ guys carried .44 Magnums.”

“Yeah, the SEAL $%&* carried those, but I got special [something].  I wanted to carry a crossbow.”

“A crossbow?  What the…”

“I used to hunt gator with a crossbow.”

“That doesn’t mean you…”

“Gator.  G-A-T-E-R.  Gator.”

“What the…I mean, what the…”

“They’re like big lizards, and…”

“Sir, how much have you had to drink today?”

“Well, not much but…”

“It’s 10:30.”

“Yeah…”

“In the morning.”

“Hell yeah, and when I blow away [racial epithet] I tell ’em, ‘I am the Lord thy…'”

“I’m hanging up now.”

I really don’t get people sometimes.

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