OK, blame me. Last night we finally got around to listening to the voice mail and my mother needed something from Wallyworld. It was 10:00 and there was nothing on TV except that stupid Sherlock Holmes thing. So I told my wife I'd drive her there right now. So off we went. And after buying what we'd gone for, I decided to enter the freak show part and look at their ammo case. It was locked. No one at the store knew who had the key, if anyone. But there on the floor were cases just brought out from the back room! I was third in line.

The two guys in front of me were normal guys. Then the two behind us were pretty much hillbillies, but having a good time. Then along came a nice couple (she was a babe of the first order). So the one guy who apparently could also be a cashier said he could sell the ammo he had out, but only 3 boxes to a customer.
My wife counted, too. The guys behind me wanted 12 gauge, as I did. But in the half hour we burned, no one came up with the key. So I had enough time invested and my wife bought 3 boxes of .223. Oh, she doesn't own one and neither do I!


But the son's both do. I should have bought 3 myself, but we finally gave up and left. So I'm undecided if I should give them away or just sell them at the next gun show.
And during the painful wait for the key, one of the guys in front of me asked where all the 550 packs of 22s went. So I just said "they're all in my basement".

So at least now I've got 60 rounds of .223. And I don't feel bad about it at all. I'm more worthy than those who weren't hanging out at Wallyworld after 10:00 PM.