Paul Not Reubans, an award winning gonzo blogger at GOODSTUFFs Cyber World, is curious, and with all the talk about the big bad weapons of war in the news, he thought he should go try them out for himself.
What's it like to fire a Atomic Rocket Rifle? It's an experience I'll never forget. Everybody knows atomic hand held weapons are scary looking and ought to be banned, but I thought I would try to shoot one without any preconceived notions. What I encountered changed me forever.
I took a deep breath and determined to enter a GunsЯus. A greeter met me with, "Good day mate, welcome to GunsЯus." I'm from the north. We don't say "Good day mate". I sneer back at the micro aggression and strain to hold back tears of rage. Barely controlling myself, I asked where I could find a atomic hand held weapon. He directed me to sporting goods, still smiling and gloating over his slyly delivered cultural marxism offense.
I go to the sporting goods section, a perfect gruesome area where implements of death and destruction are openly and brazenly sold. I notice a atomic hand held weapon just lying on a shelf. I reach for it as if it was a South African centipede, wondering if it will go off when I pull it off the shelf. That's right, a shelf. Where anybody could get it.
I go to the counter and the death merchant asks me if I wanted nuclear fuel rods to go with it. He even had the audacity to offer me "Nuken Duke" brand nuclear fuel rods! How could this inbred hick not know that I see a therapist twice a week to treat my anatidaephobia?
I buy the gun and the recommended Nuken Duke brand nuclear fuel rods. I'm dizzy going out to the parking lot. A passing open carry supporter type redneck dude, attired in a camouflage assault t-shirt, asks, "Sir, you okay?" "How dare you assume my gender!" I shout back. "Sorry, just checkin'," he said as if my health was any of his business. But the worst was yet to come.
After leaving my safe place,I went to a Hundred Acre Woods to fire the atomic rocket rifle, a Armageddon 2419, probably made by Colonel Wilma Deering. I bruised my knuckles operating the cocking lever. Taking aim, I closed my eyes, gritted my teeth, and pulled the trigger. The sound of the spring loaded plunger going "boing" startled me. I became disoriented watching the nuclear fuel rod arc towards its target. The "dink!" sound it made bouncing off a coke can was horribly loud. The recoil was horrendous, like a bazooka or some other recoil-less weapon, and it dislocated my shoulder. I vomited and cried. I still have PTSD. Anxiety. Irritability. Nightmares. I may never again be the same.
But enough about me, at least for now. Worst of all, these weapons of mass destruction are available to the general public. It's time we stopped listening to the paid lobbyists of the National Atomic Weapon Association who assure us that atomic hand held weapons are hardly ever used in the commission of a crime.
Atomic hand held weapons scare me, they should scare you, and they ought to be banned.