When I told my friends I had guns in my house, a couple of them were excited, the others not so much. The gang followed me home nervously.
“Where are your parents?” Simon asked.
“They’re out of town. Staying with my grandparents.”
I entered the house and they followed me in.
“Holy shit bro, this place is a fucking palace!” Tyler announced like a giddy child.
“Yeah, it’s nice. That’s what a job in law can get you.”
“That’s what my Dad always tells me. Concentrate in school, and go to University and one day I can have something like this.”
“Fuck man! This is crazy, and you make me buy you beer?”
“My dad doesn’t give me any money, says I need to earn it myself.”
The guys entered the house and gazed at the interior of the house as if it was made by God himself.
“Follow me,” I told them.
I walked through the hallway and into my parent’s bedroom.
“Are you sure you should be doing this?”
I ignored the question and delicately turned the dial of the safe.
“Yeah, you got to see this shit!”
With a click, the safe opened.
My friends gasped, seeing he arsenal of weapons that were revealed as the safe opened.
“Don’t worry, they aren’t loaded.”
I slipped on the silk gloves that hung on the inside of the door and passed threw the Glock to Simon.
“Check that out, a Glock 17, same as issued to the police, just hold it,” I said he delicately caught it.
“Fuck man, is this loaded?” he said touching it like a hot potatoe.
“Of course it fucking isn’t.”
He passed it back and I released the magazine.
“Oh shit, it was,” I said sliding it out and pushing it back in.
“The others aren’t, I promise. Hey Tyler.”
I threw over a Colt 45 revolver, “Check this out.”
He took it in his hand and with delight pointed it at Simon.
“What the fuck man?”
I laughed and threw an AK-47 over to Jay.
He took it in his hands and smiled, nodding his head.
“You’re fuckng crazy,” Simon said scared.
From above we heard footsteps.
“Shit, I didn’t think they’d be back so soon.”
“Is that your parents?” Simon asked.
“I think so,” I responded.
Jay and Tyler handed back the weapons and ran out of the bedroom and out the front door.
Calmly I replaced them in the safe, closing the door and spinning the lock. A couple of minutes later my Dad entered the bedroom.
“So,” he said.
“I got three separate sets of prints, Dad,” I said elated.
“You did good son,” he said as I handed back the silk gloves and he tussled my hair, “you did good.”