One of P’s very best friends is a member of a branch of the U.S. Special Forces. They met each other about six years ago, through a series of random circumstances, and quickly discovered that they shared an intense love of all things gun and ammo related. And y’all know that old saying, friends that kill together, stay together.
Well, maybe that’s not exactly right, but it worked for Thelma and Louise and it works for P and his friend, except for the part about driving off a cliff in a car.
The thing that makes me laugh is P will get on the phone with this friend and they’ll talk about lethal weaponry in such detail, and for so long, that you would think they were talking about something really interesting, like shoes or jewelry.
Back in January, P’s friend realized he was going to get to fly to South Texas for a visit. Y’all have never heard more strategizing in your life. I don’t know what kind of preparation goes into planning a war, and heaven knows I should with all the Military Channel watching that goes on around here, but the U.S. Armed Forces have nothing on these two.
For weeks, I overheard conversations that sounded like this.
“Oh, we’ll definitely need three mags, maybe even four.”
“The best thing about that caliber of bullet is that it will cause massive internal hemorraghing for a quick kill.”
“With the night vision, we’ll be able to maximize our kill time.”
And my personal favorite, “Kip is going to rent a helicopter so that we can shoot hogs out of it.”
I read somewhere one time ( yes, that’s as specific as I can get, if you want sources cited you might want to go read something else) that there are satellites or some other such foolishness that track things people say, and if keywords are triggered that might lead the CIA or FBI or whoever else is listening to believe that you might be plotting something sinister, such as taking over a small country or paying full price at Gap or Banana Republic, then you will be closely monitored.
If that’s true, then let me take a moment to give a big shout out to the CIA agents who are, at this very moment, monitoring this blog and all other communications that stem from our home address.
Don’t worry, y’all…they’re just trying to kill pigs. It’s all very innocent, well, unless of course, you’re a pig. And I don’t mean a pig in the 70’s street slang for a cop sense. I mean hogs, wild hogs.
At the crux of all this plotting and planning was the aforementioned helicopter rental. Kip, who is another of P’s friends, owns a ranch, and the wild hogs are destroying the place. They dig under fences, they tear up roads and breed like rabbits or you know, wild hogs. Kip wanted to seriously decimate the hog population, so he chose the occasion of P’s friend’s visit to rent a helicopter to orchestrate an aerial attack on the pork insurgents.
Now, I realize the appeal of hanging out of a helicopter and shooting semi-automatic weapons is, for the most part, lost on the majority of females. So, to help y’all envision their excitement, imagine someone helicoptering you into the Nordstroms’ parking lot and telling you to gather up as many pairs of shoes as you possibly can.
Exciting, right?
And wait, it gets better. This wasn’t just gratuitous killing because it served a purpose. Our church has a Feed the Homeless ministry that processes wild game to provide meals to people living on the streets. The hogs that were killed were donated to the church to supply them with enough meat to serve over 3,000 meals.
Ham for the homeless, y’all. What could be better than that?
Except for this.
After dinner one night, they lured me in with the night vision equipment and weaponry. Y’all know how I love all things Sydney Bristow and for just a moment, I could pretend like I was about to bust in to some chemical plant in Germany and work somebody over while using terms like “covert op” and “infiltrate”.
For all of us, the visit was like a dream come true…well, except for maybe the hogs.