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Scabby on Open Carry  


In my line of work, you carry a lot of things. For starters, on any given day I am carrying an entire ecosystem of various microscopic mites and invisible parasites. I’ve carried over 2-dozen babies, and 3-dozen infections, a few of them to full-term. One thing I never forget to carry is my Smith & Wesson Model 29, if you are not familiar with that particular piece; it is the same kind Clint Eastwood used as the Dirty Harry character. I have always been proud of my ‘metal manhood’ or ‘chrome c*ck’, as I like to call it.
Now, if I am going to make the daily rent on my shed behind the empty pool of the half-burned down motel on Agnes, I have to be working those corners, and that means showing some skin. Momma always said to leave a little bit to the imagination, but that was before we had to compete with the high-speed, downloadable pornucopia that puts it all out there, as well as IN there and UP there. I can’t be wearing all those concealing garments like jackets or shirts and pants. That’s why until now I’ve never had a choice but to stow away my ‘boom stick’ inside my own dirty hairy, instead of carrying it proudly on my hip or strapped under my arm, which, full disclosure, are also pretty dirty and hairy.
            Yep, true story, for years Scabby has been packing heat in her hot spot. I guess there’s more room in there than I thought. And all this time you thought that I called it my gun case because it can take in a grown man’s arm all the way to the bicep. Nope, I kept my good-old six-shooter in my bad-old sick cooter and none of you ever noticed. Well, except for that one John with the really curvy dong. Somehow he got his cylinder wrapped up in the trigger guard and ended up blowing his head off. It was a terrible accident, luckily we found his tip and with all the extra penile DNA and left behind schmucks inside me, there were enough foreskins for the back-alley doctor to perform a proper graft that in the end added four inches to his almost looped penis.
            I know what you’re thinking. “Did she swallow six shots or only five?” Well to tell you the truth in all this excitement I kinda lost track myself. But seeing that is a Magnum, I’ll give it the most powerful handjob in the world and I will blow your head clean, you’ve gotta ask yourself one question: “Do I feel f*cky?” Well, do ya, hunk? I’ve always wanted to say that!
As you can tell, the new open carry law is going to greatly benefit me. I don’t know how many times I’ve had to turn away a party of six, because I only had room for five more barrels in my leathery quick-release penis holster. That said, I don’t plan on removing the Saturday-night-special I keep in my ass, that baby needs to stay right where it belongs. It’s the only thing giving structure to my lose rectal cavity.  

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