I think I’m going to buy a small gun and strap it to my thigh.
This is a real thing someone said to me today. Someone who is pretty similar to me. Maybe a bit more gorgeous and a whole lot younger, and definitely with better thighs, but still –
I was horrified.
I tried to talk her out of it.
Are you mad.? The wrong people will get hold of the gun, you would never be able to shoot the damn thing, there’ll be an accident, how can you even think of getting a gun, a GUN, you know it’s crazy…
She remained unfazed.
Nope, she said. I’m scared. Scared of crime, scared of what’s going on in our suburbs. I’ll get a license, learn how to shoot, do it properly.
Dear sweet goddesses. What has happened to us? That people like her, normal ordinary lovely everyday people are so scared.
Guns are not the answer. We know that. Even she knows that.
But fear is a terrible thing.
There is nothing good about this story at all. Not a single thing.
Except maybe I’ll get to put my hands up her skirt, on her milky thighs, to check for a little Smith and Wesson.
I hope I find French lace instead.