Charmed

I know, you think this is going to be a post all about witches and sisterhood and the mythical power of three.

No, it's not.

It's about The Man! Yeah, Man.

I don't remember if I wrote about his latest trip into sales. Before I met him he used to be a salesman. He was good at it, too. He can bullshit people into buying anything. A couple of months ago he decided just being a storm spotter wasn't enough. He wanted a badge to make it look more official.

So he talked to his buddies down at the police station. They gave him the name and number of the person they order their badges from. He called this guy up and tragedy of tragedies, his computer wasn't working, he was too busy with other shit, and wasn't going to order The Man a badge. But that turns out to be good news. He asked The Man if he would be interested in getting into the badge business and ordering his own damn badge.

Why yes, yes he would. That started the whole Vertrees Express Badges extravaganza. I've worked my fingers to bloody stubs putting together that web site and I'm still not finished. So far we've spent I don't know how much money on office equipment, uniforms (Yes, God help me The Man has uniforms now that make him look amazingly like a police officer. The fine line between displaying his products and impersonating an officer got even more blurry when The Man pimped out his van with police lights and a regular extravaganza of antennas), and demonstration badges. I thought things were going to calm down now, but no.

The Man isn't in the best of shape physically, so he wants to be able to carry a gun. For protection. Because there's just that much crime here in greater Cudville. His nephew has a concealed carry handgun license, so he gave The Man the phone number of the guy who ran the course he took to get his license. Turns out this guy is as big a bullshitter as The Man. They talked and talked. When The Man told him about the badge business the teacher asked if he would be interested in selling automatic weapons to local cop shops. Turns out one of the few people in the area that has a license to sell automatic weapons is sick and retiring, so now the cops are going to be desperately searching for someone to sell them weapons. The teacher said he knew one police station in the area wants to buy 10 automatic machine guns. What they need them for in this area I don't know.

I was kind of skeptical at first. Until I found out we could make $10,000. And I don't mean they would pay $10,000. I mean our profit would be $10,000. Hello federal automatic weapons license.

Just to get ready for selling these guns and making tons of money we had the teacher come out and give the class so we can carry concealed weapons. The entire Cud household passed. Unfortunately, The Girl is too young for a Missouri permit. That's not the complete tragedy it sounds like because Missouri will honor permits from any state, and it just so happens that Maine will give you a license through the mail. Even if you don't live in Maine, have never even been to Maine, and never plan on ever going to Maine.

Now my wish list for Christmas is headed by a snub nosed Smith and Wesson 38 with a little inner-pocket holster.

And bullets. Lots and lots of bullets.