An awkward moment when a guy recognized me from out on the ranch/range. A few weeks back, we went out hunting/shooting, and since we thought we had the place to ourselves, I went dressed up.
I guess he was a little freaked out, seeing me in a flektarn dress, holding a Varmit Rifle. Out on the Range, where there weren't any Antelope, but a few Deer, at least.
One of the reasons I moved here from Colorado Springs, to challenge people's worldview. The fight isn't there, it's here. Some people apparently still aren't ready to accept my existence, but they don't have to. Not when I have my warhammer/walking stick to see what I can scavenge from Lipschitz. (It's sold as a warhammer, but I use it to tear off car-doors by the hinges. The cops are cool about it, because if they find someone killed with a bec-du-corbin, the know who to talk to about it. The only guyl in town that owns a warhammer/bec du corbin.)