No, punk.

Rapaire was having a run-in of his own with the local police, who cited him for an out-of-date registration of his car. Tomorrow he will be seeing the County Auditor, because he can prove that he sent in the money for the registration and the f*&#up was at the Auditor's office. Nice officer -- he knows me, I worked with him on a recent arson case. Of course, he and his family tomorrow will owe more library fines than anyone else in the state.

Then Rapaire took his .380 (9mm Short) and shot some targets to kind of work off the tension. Shooting a pop can at 50 meters isn't any big deal, but the trick is to empty the 15-round magazine into it before it hits the ground again. Fired about 100 rounds total, didn't miss a shot. And this is without my new glasses (I pick 'em up tomorrow).

Anyway, Shame, what I wanted say was, great. BRING IT ON, you airhead! Guns, knives, fists, feet...it's all one to me, you flippin' piece of discarded pond scum! I'll shoot you to pieces and then shoot the pieces into dust! I'll cut you into collops to feed to the hogs! I'll shove you feet-first into your own big mouth and keep shoving until you disappear, and then wipe the smear of stinking grease off my hands and go have a drink with some REAL men who can actually DO what they say they can.

Get a real life, yo-yo boy, or just keep playing with yourself and your teddy.