Don’t Play With Guns.

Photo Via: Lemuel Leogene Reyes

Some of my readers know my father on a first name basis, so they know his personality. For those of you who have not read other posts about my father, you probably should take up the opportunity and do so. He calls it as he sees it, and tells you like it is. He is not afraid to speak his mind, even if it does hurt people along the way. He is one to tell stories in grave detail, and will always be the first to give you advice. His advice will be unlike any you have ever received; trust me on that.

Growing up the only topic my dad and I talked about was sports (And boys from time to time. Mostly that conversation started with, “Who is he? I thought we agreed with you can not date until you are married” and then ended with, “Well, always remember, be the dumper, not the dumpy.“). We both live, breath, eat, sleep sports. It was not until I was older that our topic of discussion widened to other subjects, such as college and life.

I remembered this conversation that I had with my father a few weeks ago, and decided to share it with you.

We were discussing a university shooting in Ohio. I read about it online, and was explaining the situation to my parents. It was a fraternity party that quickly turned bad. A fight had erupted and resulted with one of the boys shot another with a gun, ultimately killing the victim. My mother gives the typical motherly reply, “Oh how awful. What would make them do such a thing. That boy’s poor family.” My father, on the other hand, is like a light switch with his anger (Now that statement might make my father out to be one that has a problem with anger management, which is not the case. Some things really just set him off; for instance, one of his biggest yelling fest that I have witnessed was when he came home to dirty dishes in the sink. He hates that more than anything I believe. The things that really get his blood boiling are little silly things). His response was:

Why did he have to have a gun? Does no one know how to fight anymore? Only pussys carry guns, the ones that can not back it up. They just need to suck it up, get their ass kicked, then go home. That’s what used to happen when I was younger. If you ran your mouth you better be able to back it up, because if not it would be a long walk home. No one carried guns, unless you are going hunting. Only pussys that are scared to get their asses kicked carry guns.

Oh the wise words from my father. I get speeches such as these on a daily basis, even if they have no reverence to me. Instances such as this fuels me into writing a book of all of the things my dad says. Maybe some day I will, but for now, I will share my lessons learned from my father on here.

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3 Comments to “Don’t Play With Guns.”

  1. I can’t help but feel maybe he is right. Just think of those two boys whose lives are both gone.

    • Oh I completely agree with him. I am in no way supporting the carrying of guns, meaning, I am all for a right to bare arms, but that has been so twisted and the rules are so bendable that there are people out there with guns that should not have them. I believe using them for the right reasons, not for murder. My father did have a point, I just love his little rants like that.

  2. Bahahaha…. i love your dad!

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