Big Guns, Small Decorum

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Story Submitted by Ellen:

I was in a restaurant on my first date with Andrew.  He was a big guy who worked for a local contractor.  We were talking about some of the more daring things we had done in life: skydiving, bungee jumping, camping on safari, hiking the Appalachian Trail, and so on.

At one point, he asked me, "Hey, you like guns?"

I was jolted stiff by the question, and answered, "Not really."

He said, "Really?  I thought you were into crazy, daring kinds of stuff."

I said, "I can be, but you can be crazy and daring without guns."

He said, "But what's more crazy and daring that possibly putting your own life into your own hands?  Or putting someone else's in yours?"

"I'm just not into guns.  Sorry."  The topic changed, and I didn't think too much else about it.

After dinner, we left the restaurant and he told me that he had something to show me in his car.  We walked over to it.  It was parked right on the side of a busy street, under a streetlight.  He opened his trunk.

Inside was a custom rack with at least a half-dozen guns affixed to it.  "What do you think?" he asked, proudly.

I said, "Great.  You're obviously passionate about your hobby."

"It's more than a hobby," he said, "If someone tried to mess with us tonight, I would've capped them."

Apart from the fact that I couldn't imagine anyone "messing with us" in the well-populated, upper-middle-class neighborhood in which we stood, nothing sets my heart a-flutter quite like the declaration of willingness to perform an act of grievous harm to someone else for my sake.

I said, "Thanks."

"Don't mention it.  I can pop any one of these sisters off and unload it faster than you can say, 'Give me all your money.'"

"Okay."

"Want to take a ride?"

I suggested, "Maybe we could go for a walk?"  Back to my car?  And away from you?

He said, "I meant a ride in my trunk!  Ha ha ha ha ha!" his laughter was loud and startling, and he slammed his trunk closed, making me jump.

"What are you so nervous about?" he asked, "I'm not going to shoot you.  Unless you want me to."

He took a step or two closer to me, and I stepped away.  "I think I'm just going to go," I said.

"You do that.  You do that," he said, then turned back to his car, gave me a smirk, and slowly reopened his trunk.

I turned and hurried down the sidewalk, his booming laughter following me down the block.  I didn't stop moving until I made it back to my car and drove far away from the crazy man and his guns.