Walter Zoomie
Shooter
That’s right. I did it. Today I picked up two hot Russians…and they’re twins!
It was a mind-blowing experience.
First, I looked them over real close.
My eyes caressed every square inch of their curvy and well-oiled bodies.
Then, I ran my trembling hands up and down and all over them, and I felt their smooth lines.
Both of them responded eagerly and hungrily to my violation of their personal space.
They were perfect for my sick, twisted purposes.
I also took a peek inside them, and I was satisfied with what I saw.
Both moved smoothly and gracefully. I could tell by their actions that they were going to be a handful.
I didn’t care. I would die with a smile on my face.
I paid the agreed upon price and loaded the twins into my car for the short ride home, confident that many stimulating days and nights awaited me.
Yes! Twins! Russian twins. What could be hotter?
Nothing.
That’s what!
No…not this kind of Russian twins. Perverts.
Get your freaking minds out of the gutter.
This kind of Russian twins!
Because I sorta kick ass at work, I received another bonus check.
As I have so eloquently stated in the past, bonus money ain’t got no home, so bonus money goes to gun stores.
Pretty much.
Today I purchased two Mosin-Nagants for my sons from Indy Trading Post (ITP).
I have nothing but great things to say about ITP…fantastic sales people and reasonable prices.
I got what I think was a tremendous deal on my Mosins and a spam can of ammo (with opener). I will most definitely shop there again. Thanks again Brian Ludlow and crew!
You rock!
The first Mosin went to my youngest son Willie. It is a numbers matching hex receiver dated 1928.
The second Mosin went to my older son Ricky. It is a numbers matching round receiver dated 1941.
Both rifles come complete with accessory kits and spike bayonet. Very cool.
You should have seen how I played the gifting of the rifles.
First, I called Willie into the kitchen and acted like I normally do…all pissed off about something he did or did not do. I told him to sit his ass at the kitchen table.
Then, I reached out to the back porch and put his boxed Mosin on the table and told him great job on the last report card and happy early birthday!
He had a feces-eating, ear-to-ear grin on his mug, as he pulled the rifle out of the box and got Cosmoline all over himself.
Groovy!
Ricky was watching all this and getting jealous and disgusted, because he loves shooting also.
I said, “Ricky…you know the good thing about Mosins? They reproduce all on their own.”
I reached out to the back porch, grabbed the other boxed Mosin, and put it on the table.
“Great report card and happy early birthday,” I said.
He about pissed himself with excitement.
Then, I went out to my car and came back in the house and said, “Oh yeah. Mosins ain’t no good without plenty of food, so…here!”
Bang! Down goes a spam can of ammo.
Now we gotta bone up on Mosins and get ‘em all cleaned up.
Range time!
Fire balls!
Vintage Soviet battle rifles in the hands of teen boys!
I am a bad dad.
It was a mind-blowing experience.
First, I looked them over real close.
My eyes caressed every square inch of their curvy and well-oiled bodies.
Then, I ran my trembling hands up and down and all over them, and I felt their smooth lines.
Both of them responded eagerly and hungrily to my violation of their personal space.
They were perfect for my sick, twisted purposes.
I also took a peek inside them, and I was satisfied with what I saw.
Both moved smoothly and gracefully. I could tell by their actions that they were going to be a handful.
I didn’t care. I would die with a smile on my face.
I paid the agreed upon price and loaded the twins into my car for the short ride home, confident that many stimulating days and nights awaited me.
Yes! Twins! Russian twins. What could be hotter?
Nothing.
That’s what!
No…not this kind of Russian twins. Perverts.
Get your freaking minds out of the gutter.
This kind of Russian twins!
Because I sorta kick ass at work, I received another bonus check.
As I have so eloquently stated in the past, bonus money ain’t got no home, so bonus money goes to gun stores.
Pretty much.
Today I purchased two Mosin-Nagants for my sons from Indy Trading Post (ITP).
I have nothing but great things to say about ITP…fantastic sales people and reasonable prices.
I got what I think was a tremendous deal on my Mosins and a spam can of ammo (with opener). I will most definitely shop there again. Thanks again Brian Ludlow and crew!
You rock!
The first Mosin went to my youngest son Willie. It is a numbers matching hex receiver dated 1928.
The second Mosin went to my older son Ricky. It is a numbers matching round receiver dated 1941.
Both rifles come complete with accessory kits and spike bayonet. Very cool.
You should have seen how I played the gifting of the rifles.
First, I called Willie into the kitchen and acted like I normally do…all pissed off about something he did or did not do. I told him to sit his ass at the kitchen table.
Then, I reached out to the back porch and put his boxed Mosin on the table and told him great job on the last report card and happy early birthday!
He had a feces-eating, ear-to-ear grin on his mug, as he pulled the rifle out of the box and got Cosmoline all over himself.
Groovy!
Ricky was watching all this and getting jealous and disgusted, because he loves shooting also.
I said, “Ricky…you know the good thing about Mosins? They reproduce all on their own.”
I reached out to the back porch, grabbed the other boxed Mosin, and put it on the table.
“Great report card and happy early birthday,” I said.
He about pissed himself with excitement.
Then, I went out to my car and came back in the house and said, “Oh yeah. Mosins ain’t no good without plenty of food, so…here!”
Bang! Down goes a spam can of ammo.
Now we gotta bone up on Mosins and get ‘em all cleaned up.
Range time!
Fire balls!
Vintage Soviet battle rifles in the hands of teen boys!
I am a bad dad.
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