Morris
09-12-2008, 01:12
You see Gaston, I was walking through on of your stocking dealers a few weeks ago when my eye spied a beautiful Sig P226 on reverse two tone. Oh, how the pistol caused me to remember my younger days as a patrol officer when I was 20 pound lighter, had not developed a thirst for the drink (coffee, that is) and carried a softly glowing nickel finish P226. Other than that first trigger pulllllllllllllllllllllllll, it was a fine gun.
But then Gaston, I changed agencies and soon became endowed, err, issued a rough and tumble G22. While I first held it like one of my kid's pooped through diapers, I grew to like, nay, love the platform. What a trigger and so quick on the reset!
I was smitten and eight of your sirens later, I carry on with them. But I digress.
It was, in that store of temptations and all manner of things that would get me no wifely favors for months, that I handled the P226. The ceiling tiles opened and a light shined upon me. Well, it was the HVAC repair fellow but you understand, surely you must.
The Sig siren sang about coolness, wicknedness, the joys of metal frames, hell and back reliability, and beauty. I could not resist so I laid out monies to take it home and remind myself of the pleasures of a first trigger pullllllllllllllllllllllllllllllllll. Indeed, at the temple of lead, I fed it and learned that while it shot wonderfully, it did not hold the same pleasures as my homely beauties of polymer. Indeed, it was a sight to behold but something about the first pullllllllllllllllllllllll.
I strayed Gaston, I strayed. I strayed off the path of righteousness and polymer kool aid. I struck myself with my the "you spending idiot" frying pan. I hang my head and beseech you with the offering to buy yet another of your creations. I will enjo, err, endure the lack of wifely favors for a time in order to return to where I should have never left.
Will you forgive me? Will you find the Sig siren a new hunting ground?
Forever, and ever, aww crap. Run dear Gaston, she discovered the Sig. I may need to beseech you for sanctuary inside the wall of Smyrna.
Amen.
But then Gaston, I changed agencies and soon became endowed, err, issued a rough and tumble G22. While I first held it like one of my kid's pooped through diapers, I grew to like, nay, love the platform. What a trigger and so quick on the reset!
I was smitten and eight of your sirens later, I carry on with them. But I digress.
It was, in that store of temptations and all manner of things that would get me no wifely favors for months, that I handled the P226. The ceiling tiles opened and a light shined upon me. Well, it was the HVAC repair fellow but you understand, surely you must.
The Sig siren sang about coolness, wicknedness, the joys of metal frames, hell and back reliability, and beauty. I could not resist so I laid out monies to take it home and remind myself of the pleasures of a first trigger pullllllllllllllllllllllllllllllllll. Indeed, at the temple of lead, I fed it and learned that while it shot wonderfully, it did not hold the same pleasures as my homely beauties of polymer. Indeed, it was a sight to behold but something about the first pullllllllllllllllllllllll.
I strayed Gaston, I strayed. I strayed off the path of righteousness and polymer kool aid. I struck myself with my the "you spending idiot" frying pan. I hang my head and beseech you with the offering to buy yet another of your creations. I will enjo, err, endure the lack of wifely favors for a time in order to return to where I should have never left.
Will you forgive me? Will you find the Sig siren a new hunting ground?
Forever, and ever, aww crap. Run dear Gaston, she discovered the Sig. I may need to beseech you for sanctuary inside the wall of Smyrna.
Amen.