Even though I grew up in a house full of them (I mean literally all over the place - leaning in random corners, in bags underneath the guest-bed, propped in closets, sitting on top of magazines, etc) and know how to use the family pistol, guns scare me on principle. I mean, if I just see my dad cleaning the gun or something, I'm not scared, but if I just saw some random person on the street with a gun? Shit yeah, I'd run! I trust myself with guns okay. Just not other people.
I was searching for a missing boot one night, reached under my bed and felt a zipper. Aha, I thought. I pulled and out came a rifle, neatly zipped in its case. Thanks, Dad!
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