Packing Heat

Earlier today I found myself on the State Police website looking up the process for obtaining a permit for carrying a concealed handgun. I don’t want to be at the mall (or the bank, or WalMart, the gas station, or anywhere else) when morons start shooting and not be able to shoot back.

But I don’t have a gun,  a bigger purse would hurt my neck, plus it’s a lot of damn paperwork…. Lucky for everyone, I’m a creative genius.

I don’t need no stinking permit. I needs a FLAMETHROWER!



I don’t think there’s a law prohibiting the carrying of these McDaddies. (

And I’m guessing my accuracy would improve to nearly 100%.

So, whoever draws my name for Christmas, please take note: no jewelry or steak knives– just an incendiary device, please.

About Laura Alford, PhD

I'm a recent graduate of LSU (PhD in Accounting). In addition to academic research, I also write fiction on Tuesday nights with the Asilomar Writers.
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2 Responses to Packing Heat

  1. WWW says:

    I told you, that’s way funnier that bloggoddess

  2. It’s even funnier when you know about the steak knives.

    Old friend: “What’d that guy get you for your 21st birthday? Soup spoons?”

    Me: “Um. No. It was steak knives.How can you even remember this?”

    Old Friend: “Because it was the worst present I’d ever heard of.”

    And that’s why I’m still friends with my old friends, but have a different present giver.

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