And, really, if there was A grease painted clowny freak on the other side of yer front door, fuckin' with you, wouldn't you do the same thing?

...and it's the type of place where it isn't rare to have a shotgun in every room of your house. Nor is it out of the ordinary to blow a whole through your front door when you suspect a grease-painted clowny freak on the other side.

No, that would land me in jail. If he slipped and hurt himself I would probably end up in jail.

A shotgun in every room... What do you keep them in? I assume that they are hidden somewhere? If you have 10 rooms in your house, and 9 clowns broke in (not trying to scare you), you would be fucked.

naw, I just load em, and lean them in A corner.
I don't believe there's A jury in this state that'd convict me for shooting a crazy clown.
9 clowns? Let me do the math... Carry the 7, -2.....
I'd mess em up, no question.
The 4 downstairs are Remingon 870 pumps. 3 of them have tube extensions, to give me 8 rounds each. Each of those has A sidesaddle bolted to the reciever, giving me an additional 5 rounds per.
I suppose that if I emptied one, I could buttstroke A clown or two and make a tatical withdraw to the next room.
If things got really bad, like A Clown Alamo or somesuch, there's A Glock 21 in one of the kitchen cabinets, and 4 spare magazines, although I really hate having to resort to a handgun.
I have A cannon in the living room, loaded w/ 4 pounds of cut-nails,[chicks really dig this], and I imagine by that time, even Buckwheat's lazy ass would have figured out what was going on, and lent his fangs to the effort.
Luckily enough, this particular clown was too stupid to bring his buddies.
Maybe they were all busy doing a birthday party or something.
Either way, I prevailed, and with a minimum of effort.

If there is ever a zombie apocalypse.. Can I stay with you?

naw, I just load em, and lean them in A corner.
I don't believe there's A jury in this state that'd convict me for shooting a crazy clown.
9 clowns? Let me do the math... Carry the 7, -2.....
I'd mess em up, no question.
The 4 downstairs are Remingon 870 pumps. 3 of them have tube extensions, to give me 8 rounds each. Each of those has A sidesaddle bolted to the reciever, giving me an additional 5 rounds per.
I suppose that if I emptied one, I could buttstroke A clown or two and make a tatical withdraw to the next room.
If things got really bad, like A Clown Alamo or somesuch, there's A Glock 21 in one of the kitchen cabinets, and 4 spare magazines, although I really hate having to resort to a handgun.
I have A cannon in the living room, loaded w/ 4 pounds of cut-nails,[chicks really dig this], and I imagine by that time, even Buckwheat's lazy ass would have figured out what was going on, and lent his fangs to the effort.
Luckily enough, this particular clown was too stupid to bring his buddies.
Maybe they were all busy doing a birthday party or something.
Either way, I prevailed, and with a minimum of effort.

:) There is no way,
No. Damn. Way,
that I'm ever gittin' stabbed to death in the shower by some dude wearin his mamas dress.
Although I'll admit that A shotgun in the shower usually takes A little 'splainin' when I have guests over.
Fuck em if they don't understand.

Funny story.
Before my last GF moved out, she was upstairs, taking a shower one night while I was drinkin in the kitchen, making us some vittles.
Maybe it was that last shot of Jim Beam, I dunno, but for some reason I thought It'd be fun to go up and scare her.
So, trying not to laugh too much, and thus spoil the fun, I crept up the stairs and into the bathroom.
It was all steamy in there, and I could see her through the shower curtain, washing herself, all humming and singing to herself and shit...
Real quick-like, I fired up my chainsaw and threw the shower curtain back, revving the motor and screaming like a maniac, laughing my ass off.
What made it perfect was the fact that I'd taken her completely by suprise, and the look on her face, partially obscured by the smoky exhaust from the chainsaw, was classic.
[i reckon I'd mixed too much oil in the gas, I dunno]
Wish I'd had A cameraman, swear to God.
Anyhow, instead of grabbing up the shotgun, she just screamed, and kinda fell down in the bathtub, covering her face and hollering.
At that moment, it became crystal clear to me that she wasn't really the one for me, and that it wasn't going to work out.
Any woman worth a damn would have grabbed for that shotgun. I don't need DR. Phil to tell me that.