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Old August 1, 2002, 01:52 PM   #12
Mark D
Senior Member
 
Join Date: October 4, 2000
Posts: 383
I was carrying with permit...

Me and the missus walk into the church lobby one Sunday morning. A friend of my wife comes over to chit chat and catch up. The friend is a fifty-something ex-east coaster, who flirts with being five feet tall. She gives my wife a big smile and a friendly hug. Then. She turns to six foot, one inch me, and reaches out for a hug too.

Now I don't have a really long history with getting hugs from tiny people. All of my family and friends are above average height. I have learned that you can pretty much conceal a bank vault on your person, and, with just a bit of technique, keep it a secret even at a family reunion. It's just that none of my family is that small...

Anyways, back to the hug. I do my best to kinda lean forward so she will hug shoulder and not waist. No good. I would have to take off my boots and dig holes for my knees in the floor to achieve that feat. Round-about my waist go those tiny arms. Then, with as much east coast volume as possible, while clutching two sets of mags pouches, "OH! ARE THESE GUNS?" With as much sincerity and poise as I can muster in the light of a few dozen suddenly inquisitive ears and eyes, I say, "Nope, cell phone and pager."

Ya right. That'll work.

"OH!" she says. "THEN WHAT ARE THESE? THEY FEEL LIKE GUNS. ARE YOU GOING SHOOTING AFTER CHURCH?" As she starts to let go of the mag pouches and reach for my holsters. At this point, (as my wife related later) I am supplementing the lighting with the healthy red glow on my face. Reflex takes over and I break the hug, because there's no way someone is going to grab my guns. Totally shocked by this gals genuinely innocent disregard for what the now curious/horrified crowd of parishoners may be thinking, I simply lose the power of speech and start to stammer like an idiot. My wife, graciously said, "Here honey, why don't you take Zach and go check him into the nursery?" She then saves my but by taking her friend aside and asking her how her week has been.
Trying to look as non-threatening as possible, I hoist man-child onto my hip and grab his diaper bag as I head off to the nursery. Since I am now visibly equipped with an infant and the associated gear (it helps that Zach is really cute), the small crowd of onlookers nonchalantly take off from where they left off, and harmony is restored to the univerese.

My wife laughed her head off on our way home.
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