Wednesday, February 27, 2013

Clark's Unbelievable Pet Peeve

So, you're not happy to see me?
Once again, Michael has offered up some very solid advice. If you close the lid, you're putting the seat down. Gentlemen, the whole toilet seat thing is very important to the ladies and if you heed my colleague's advice, you could reap dividends, if you catch my drift (I'm talking about sex stuff).

While I share Michael's peevishness, that isn't my pet. Mine is counting. Man, I hate it when they count! Not the math function in general. I recognize that serves a purpose. No, I'm talking about when crooks count my bullets while I'm shooting at them. Remember Clint Eastwood's classic monologue from 1971's "Dirty Harry"...

I know what you're thinking. "Did he fire six shots or only five?" Well, to tell you the truth, in all this excitement I kind of lost track myself. But being as this is a .44 Magnum, the most powerful handgun in the world, and would blow your head clean off, you've got to ask yourself one question: Do I feel lucky? Well, do ya, punk?
Of course you remember it. Everyone does, including criminals. As a result, this kind of thing happens...

"All right, it's over. Give yourself up already."
"I don't think so. You see, I believe you've already fired all six shots."
"No, I didn't. I only fired five. I have one left."
"I don't see how you could possibly know that, what with all this excitement."
"You honestly think I'm not going to remember how many shots I've fired? That's absurd."
"Prove it then. Shoot me."
"What? No, I'm not going to shoot you."
"Why not? Go ahead and do it."
"No. Because I don't want to, that's why."
"Hmmm, maybe because, oh, I don't know, you're all out of bullets?"
"Are you seriously questioning my ability to count to six?"
"I am not out of bullets!"
"Just open it up and look in there. I'll bet you a million dollars it's empty."
"Oh right. A million dollars? Like you have a million dollars. Sure, I'll make that bet, Mr. Million Dollars, who robs liquor stores. Why don't we make it a billion dollars?"
"It's this simple; if you don't shoot me, I'm just going to take off running."
"You'd better not!"
"Look, you shot at me at the bank, that's one. Then when I ran to the end of the block, you shot again. Right? Then twice when I stole the school bus..."
"I only shot once at the school bus!"
"No, remember? The first shot shattered the back window and then you comandeered that motorcycle and fired a second one which ricocheted off the front fender and broke the rear view mirror."
"Shit. That's right."
"Then your fifth shot hit me in the shoulder, which caused me to crash into the gate at the amusement park and then you shot at me one more time when we climbed to the top of this Ferris Wheel. That's six!"
"This is so stupid..."
"Ha ha ha ha! I win! (turns and starts running, gets shot, falls off Ferris Wheel, crashes through glass ceiling, lands on red hot barbecue grill, bounces off into deep fryer which explodes)"
"...I mean, geez, I have another gun."

You can see how that kind of thing, happening more than a couple times, would get annoying.

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