Dad: “Hustle up, kids, we’re gonna be late for the movies! Hey, Biff, where’s your little brother?”
Biff: “He won’t leave his room, Dad. And he’s refusing to wear his gun. The voices are telling me that Skippy is, like, such a snowflake.”
Dad: “Skippy, you get down here right now, duly armed! And rack the slide on that Glock!”
Skippy finally skulks into the foyer – without his Glock.
Dad: “Son, you are trying my patience. Why do you hate freedom?”
Biff chortles gleefully. Mom enters the foyer, winces at Dad.
Mom: “Honey, don’t you think you’re being a little hard on Skippy?”
Dad: “Disrespecting his Glock is the first step toward tyranny. Next thing you know, he’ll be one of those socialists who’s plotting to take away our guns.”
Skippy: “Come on, Dad, there’s no such plot.”
Dad: “Of course they deny it. That’s part of their plot to do it. Which reminds me, anyone seen my Ruger?”
Mom: “Oh honey, it’s with the car keys like it always is.”
Biff: “C’mon, Dad, you’re really taking that little .380? That is, like, so embarrassing. What if there’s a guy behind us talking during the film, and he’s sitting there with an AR-15? You can’t confront him with a frickin Ruger. Bad enough Mom’s only got a .38 snub.”
Mom: “Honey, maybe Biff’s right. Doesn’t the piece you wear to church have more stopping power than the Ruger? Or how about your mall gun?”
Dad: “OK, OK. Honey, where’s my AK-47 at? That mans up well against the AR-15. More powerful cartridge and all. Skippy, spare me the eyeroll.”
Skippy: “Dad, it’s going to be dark in there. You won’t even be able to get a kill shot.”
Dad: “Good point, son. Everyone back to your rooms, get your night-vision goggles.”
Biff: “Got mine already. The voices told me to be prepared.”
Skippy: “Him again with the talking teeth. You are so lame. Even if you and Dad manage to shoot the guy, it won’t matter because I bet he’ll be wearing a vest.”
Dad: “That reminds me. Boys, go back and fetch your body armor. That will maximize our self-protection in the kill zone.”
Skippy: “Forget it. It’s been weeks since I’ve seen my Kevlar.”
Mom: “You’d know where it was if you ever picked up your room!”
Biff: “Dys-funct-ional fam-ily!…Jeez, the voices are loud tonight. And they’re warning me that I am exiting the home ill-prepared for the most serious threat level because my ‘9’ is insufficient. The stainless steel chassis is seriously cool, but c’mon, Dad, it only fires 10 rounds, and my friends are starting to make fun of me. What happens if a potential hostile cuts in front of us in the snack line? And he’s got something with a 100-round magazine and I’m stuck with my pea shooter? And Skippy still hasn’t even racked the slide on his Glock? It would be Blackhawk Down for us. So much for going to the movies in freedom.”
Dad: “Smart thinking, son. Let’s pop over to the gun shop.”
Biff: “Don’t be so old, Dad. I can go online right now and buy an AR-15 with a silencer for only 1400 bucks. Somebody poses a threat to us at the movies, I can put him down so quietly that nobody in the place will miss a single line of dialogue.”
Dad: “Put that phone away, we got enough defense hardware. Though we should probably pack our teargas grenades, because you never know. You boys go fetch your six-ouncers, they oughta be enough for this mission. ‘Choke on my smoke, socialist!’”
Skippy: “Great joke, Dad. Like, not. And if I’m gonna so locked and loaded, I won’t even be able to hold the popcorn.”
Mom (sighing): “No need to worry about the movie anymore. We’ve spent so much time packing our gear that we’ve missed the beginning.”
Dad: “Just as well, I hate all that Hollywood violence. Guns don’t kill people, movies do. Biff, gimmee your phone, let me see that website. $1400 is a damn good price! Honey, where are those stimulus checks at?”
—
Postscript: I wrote a version of this piece for the Philadelphia Inquirer nearly 10 years ago. With some updating tweaks and some new details, it’s fresher than ever. You see my point.