I really don't know what I've done wrong in my life to deserve such shabby treatment and bad fortune in my twilight years... alright, my close to midnight years. I served my country with honor, I wasn't very good at it but it was honorable non-the-less. I protected helpless citizens against crime and/or evil, risking life and limb at speeds approaching 120 mph whilst trying to get to the donut shop for the first warm delicacies of the early morn. In short, I've tried to lead a good life. What is my reward for all this self-sacrifice? Emotional torment! After the unfortunate incident with Zombie Steve attempting to abscond with the fruits of my life's labor I managed to calm myself through the consumption of 12 year old scotch and a fine cigar. As I retired for the evening I laid my head back secure in the knowledge that the morning sun would bring a better day. Once again my hopes for a sliver of justice have been dashed upon the rocks of despair. Arising from my nest of slumber I discovered that Zombie Stevie had not only bonded out of jail but had broken into my abode in the middle of the night and rested his weary body upon my couch. To say that I would have been more pleased to have found one of my ex-wives trying to steal my guns would be a gross understatement. I am now faced with the ultimate dilemma. He has informed me that I have a choice, either spend the day giving him a casting lesson or he will claim illegal immigrant status and live in my home for free forever. I wish I'd never learned how to spell GUN much less started buying them (This newb crap is way overrated.) Jack Wanna kill these ads? We can help!