So Saturday, after hunting with two packs (report tomorrow), Home Hunt had its annual do. On Sunday's menu was a drive to meet visiting friends at National Gun Day. I went directly from the thrash, arriving in plenty of time.
So I got out of the truck, still in my wing collared pleated shirt, cummerbund, striped trousers, and dancing slippers.
Tam gave me only the slightest raised eyebrow- she knows me too well- and I said, "Gun Show of Shame". *
Which phrase has apparently not made it into the mainstream of over 25, non hunting U. S. culture yet, judging from the blank stares which greeted me whenever I used it. Pull yourselves into the eighties, people!
My slightly anti friend K thought I'd get grief over how I was dressed. Only a couple of questions as we walked the aisles. My favorite was a dealer who watched me approach and decided to have a giggle- elbowing his audience and saying "You sure look pretty".
S- "Thank you, that's very flattering, but I'm afraid I'm only attracted to women. Keep trying though, I'm sure you'll find someone here."
All his chums larfed.
*Not technically correct, since I was the mighty Casey as usual.