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tower of light

April 2017

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tower of light

This Is Why We Can't Have Nice Guns Around The House

I did a quick find-and-replace on this The Onion piece and abridged it a little for reading. Do excuse the Americanism, though.


Okay, that is it. Sherlock, Mycroft, come here this instant! I've simply had it with you two. I thought I heard a .357 Magnum round discharge, and sure enough, what do I find when I open the end-table drawer but your father's still-smoking Desert Eagle. Just look at it! The nickel plating is scratched up, and what's this on the trigger—peanut butter? Dear Lord, I suppose you thought you could just put it back and no one would ever notice?

This is precisely why we can't have any nice guns around here.

Listen, you can cry all you want about how it was an accident, but that isn't getting either of you off the hook. Sherlock, you're old enough to know when a firearm's safety mechanism has been disengaged, and Mycroft, maybe if you set a better example for your little brother once in a while, he'd know that he shouldn't be horsing around with the most expensive semiautomatic handgun in the house.

I swear, you kids will be the death of me.

I don't care who started shooting first! I don't want to hear it. You're both in big trouble. You just wait until we're back from getting Sherlock patched up and your father hears about this. My heavens, this is worse than the time you two bent the firing pin on my good Glock 19 because you wanted to see if it could shoot .30-caliber rounds.

Why do you do this? Is there something wrong with the guns you already have? They're functional and plenty accurate, but you're always leaving them outside or strewn across your playroom—honestly, it's like one goes off every time I try to walk through that pigsty.

And don't get me started on that crossbow you kids begged us for last Christmas! Sure, you spent the morning out in the yard shooting bolts straight up into the air, but it's been collecting dust in the nursery ever since. Well, you're both grounded until further notice. No new rifles, shotguns, butterfly knives, blow darts, throwing stars, morning stars, brass knuckles, no nothing. Not so much as a canister of pepper spray.

Sherly, I see that smirk on your face, and you can wipe it off right now. This is no joke.

Yes, Mycroft, I know your birthday's coming up, but until things change around here, there's going to be a lot less gunfire in this house.

Your father and I, we try so hard to raise you right. We just want you to have the weaponry we never had when we were growing up. Believe it or not, those nice guns, we're trying to keep them nice for you. One day the Desert Eagle, the Smith & Wesson Model 29, the Soviet-era Kalashnikov, the dueling pistols, the mother-of-pearl-inlay Colt .45—they'll all be yours Mycroft and...Sherlock? Sherlock, what did I just say?

That's it, no fishing trip for you this weekend. Nope. It's off. I'm calling your father right now and telling him not to bother picking up that cache of dynamite on his way home.

Comments

Ha ha ha ha ha. *snortlaughs*
Love it! Epic LOL.
LOL!

Yes, this is exactly how Mummy Holmes brought up her children. Maybe she became "M" later. (Y'know, from James Bond. I'm sure she wasn't a Bond girl, because Mrs. Holmes was way too cool and smart to be a Bond girl.)
Utterly brilliant!
LOL! That last sentence killed me XD