'My holy god!! There I wus, just sittin' in my damn truck listin' to tha radio wishin' I had A/C in that damn thang. My brood of children was playin' in tha yard, or somethin', minding thar own business, not botherin' a soul. Tha youngest one had a splinter in his big toe so he wus just hobblin' around tryin' ta keep up with his pet possum. Then outta tha blue come this really big herd of wild, red eyed, sloberin', mean as al git out, feral pigs. Musta been right near thirty or forty or more of'em knockin' down trees, pissin' and poopin' all over hell and creation! In no more'n three New York minutes they wus'a chasin' my dirty little kids like I never seen'em run before. Man! Those kids can run fast! No wonder I can't never catch one of'em. Right about then I was'a wishin' I had my damn machine gun across my lap so's I could just blast the hell outta them dirty wild pigs! But I remembered I left it alayin' on the couch in tha livin' room. I put my beer back in tha cooler and beat feet back to tha house to git my pig killer which I always leave loaded an' ready layin' on tha couch for in case the ruskies ever attack. By the time I got back outside, which took only about three minutes, them dirty pigs had run all my kids off like scared jack rabbits, but I figured they'd all find thar way back by dark thirty like they always do anyhow. When them filthy pigs saw my machine gun they all hightailed it outta thar. I don't know how I'd protect my family if'n I didn't have that thar machine gun. It sure saved the day that time, that's fer sure. Thank goodness for Mr. trump and his boss tha NRA fer allowin' me ta own my machine gun ta 'protect' my kids from them wild, feral pigs!' 
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