The last knife gun show was a little slow at times,
but I try to have fun with the prospective customers. But sometimes things get out of hand…..
After inspecting every knife and asking such penetrating
questions like what does Rockwell scale mean and what’s the name of the miner
who dug the chromium, he started to walk off.
“Enjoy the museum show, sir.” I said
He paused mid-step.
“Museum show? Don’t you mean gun
show.” He had an amused look on his
face. Why not? After all he just caught someone with a
little mistake that might be amusing to him.
“No sir. We’re the
Lippincott Valley Satrap, largest recreationist group in the United
States. Once a year we put on our great
show.”
“This isn’t a gun show?”
“Thank you for the compliment sir. We strive for perfect fidelity.”
“I don’t understand.
This isn’t a gun show?”
“This year we are recreating a gun show. Last year we did a road rally that was so
good, it took honors. We’d like to do it
a second time in a row."
“So you’re telling me this stuff isn’t for sale. Is that what trying to say.”
“No sir, I’m not trying.
I’m telling you, everything you see is owned by our members and part of
their personal collections. Nothing is
for sale, well, almost nothing.” I
paused for a second and gave him my fingers-in-the-candy-bowl guilt look. “A few guys have a small museum store. You can buy stickers, pins and membership,
but that s about it.”
“What about the guy over there selling raffle tickets? Are you going tell me those are phony too.”
“No sir, those guys are real.
We always let NRA and Friends of the NRA set up and sell. It adds a dimension of reality, doesn’t
it?”
He hadn’t fallen completely yet but
I could tell he was having doubts, so I stopped talking and waited for him to
step into it.
“What about the hawkers in the aisles holding guns? I saw two men transfer money…”
“Part of the set up. “It’s
funny money we buy from a movie prop house.
Look, did you try to buy a gun from someone walking about?”
“Well, I talked to one guy, but he wouldn’t come down…” I could see understanding was beginning to
break through.
“That’s because he didn’t recognize you. These guys set it up in advance with other
members and everyone gets their stuff back, including the faux greenbacks.”
“I don’t believe you,” he said. But I knew it was time to set the hook..
“Look buddy, I don’t care what you believe. It’s no skin off my ass. Go ask the ticket seller what kind of show this
is. But I got to tell you, if this is
some kind of scam to get your money back, that’s not going to fly with
them. The club president assured me the sign
outside the door would be clearly marked.”
I’d like to use that old Groucho Marx line about him leaving
in a huff and a half, but he didn’t. He
just turned around and walked calmly and directly to the front of the show and the ticket
window. I’m not sure how that went. I heard sirens shortly after he left my
table. I don’t know what happened, and
I’m not going ask, either.
It’s fun to go to the zoo, but you mustn’t tease animals too
much. You never know who’s really in the
cage, do you?
