I realized that part of Crazy Lady's mess was probably stray lead from the Geezer, or worse, Nazi love taps from Dr. Strangelove's evil pistol. My loved one and I were sandwiched between a half blind Geezer unable to see the damn target and Dr. Strangelove's evil kinky gloved Hitler fist with it's .38 caliber fueled suicide fetish. Not to mention the Biker's farther down with his apocalyptic bloodbath fantasy, and the crazy meth-queen BB gun bandit. It is at moments like these that you realize that truth, what is truly said and done on this planet by real people is more absurd and twisted than anything anyone could ever pen as fantasy.
At that moment I changed my mind about getting my concealed carry permit. I needed it, not to protect myself against criminals, but to even my chances against the soon to be gun toting spawn in the room. I had walked onto the range a different man, naive and happy. Now, with a pimp-slap of NRA inspired, State approved reality, I began to feel fear. I was seeing what can happen when the State attempts to legislate and control lethal weapons. I was witnessing the proverbial "Crack" that people fall through who go on to do evil things that should have been prevented by safeguards. The crack was wide here, I could hear the echoes of gunshots reverberating in it's expansive chasm, as these gun nuts all slipped through it, walking side by side like gun toting characters in a musical on their way into happy concealed carry weapon land.
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