Stopping Power – Explained

Two guys walk into a beer joint in South Alabama and sit beside each other at the bar. One is a portly fellow with greying hair and a handlebar mustache. We’ll call him Guy No. 1. The other dude is younger and thinner and he is dressed in a suit and wearing a cowboy hat and boots. We’ll call him Guy No. 2.

They introduce themselves and strike up a conversation. Politics is the topic, which is never a good idea when you first meet someone. However, these two gents agree that the current field of democratic presidential candidates are about as screwed up as a coon dog with pierced nipples. The talk turns to gun control and both men are getting their dander up.

The bar maid walks up and she is a looker. Not only that, she is a bit heavy on top and her tight tank top is cut lower than the either fellow’s approval of Obama. All the talk stops and them two gents just look at her. She says, “What’ll it be boys?”

Drinks are ordered and the talk resumes. Finally mustache man asks the cowboy, “What you carrying? 45 I bet.”

Guy No. 2 gives the portly fellow a steely-eyed look, takes a swig of his PBR and says, “Nope.” He wipes the foam from his upper lip and continues, “I carry a revolver. 22 Magnum.”

Guy No. 1 gets a look on his face like he just stepped in fresh dog poop. He stands up and starts to say, “You got to be kidding me! A grown man like you…” But, he stops, mid sentence, because at that precise moment a familiar anthem starts steaming from the jukebox rather loudly.

A couple in a booth in the back and an old hippie looking guy at the bar simultaneously yell, “Turn it up!” And the cowboy says, “Nothing like Skynyrd.”

Hairy face says, “Now where was I? Oh, yeah. What the hell you carrying a .22 Magnum for?”

The tall fellow takes his hat off, wipes his brow and puts it back on. He says, “I figured having a gun was more important than what caliber it is. After all, bad guys can’t tell to easy what kind of gun you got when they are looking down the barrel.”

Guy No. 1 replies, “That’s not a very sound approach to personal protection. Only a half witted retard would carry a 22 for protection. With all the other, more suitable carry guns to chose from, you must be dumber than a day old chicken nugget. You my friend are just a dumb ass!”

Cowboy stands up, lays a couple dollars on the bar and turns toward his antagonist. He gently sweeps his jacket back and places his hand on the grip of his Ruger LCR, making sure hairy lip could see, full well, what he was doing. He looks down at the man who was giving him hell over what kind of gun he was carrying, flexes his fingers on his gun hand – just to make sure he has the guy’s attention – and says, real calm like, “This conversation is over and its time for you to leave.”

Guy No. 1 never said another word. He stood, threw a few bills on the bar, turned and walked out.

Bout that time, tight T-shirt came over, picked up the cash, looked at the cowboy and said, “Didn’t see that coming. You sure put a stop to his mouth.”

The cowboy tipped his hat, grinned at the low cut shirt, and said, “Nobody wants to get shot with any kind of gun. What time you get off work?”

Sweet thing smiled and said, “Nine. Pick me up out back.”

“Yes mam, I’ll be there.”

So there you have it; three perfect examples of stopping power that can be counted on to work just about every time.

The first was cleavage.

The second was Sweet Home Alabama.

And the third, well the third was the realization by a loud mouth that he might just get shot with a 22 Magnum.