Only In Citrus County, Florida

Hi, guys,

Yeah, I thought you might like that title.  Here’s the story.

Red and I were going camping with our girlfriends on Friday night. It was cold and a bit rainy, but we had all decided that we were going to go regardless of the sucky weather.  We traveled to our campsite, set up our tent, cooked some food, and did the normal camping thing.  It all started out so normal.

Well, around 11:30 PM, we ended up running out of smokes, so the girls had Red and I run up to the nearest gas station which was about 5 or 10 minutes away.  It was pretty busy for this time of night, but we thought nothing of it.  We ended up buying our smokes and walking out to the car.

There was a black guy sitting in an SUV when we walked out.  He was in the passenger seat and must have noticed how sketchy Red and I looked.  He says, “Yo, cracka, wanna buy some snow?”

I paused for a moment, and then remembered that we’re in Florida, and although it might be cold, there is definitely no snow to be bought. I then realized that this black man was not in any way suggesting that we buy a form of precipitation from him.

We declined (though it might have made the night less cold), and went on our way.  On the way out of the gas station, we realized that we had left our lighter at the campsite, and we asked two fellers who were standing around the gas station if they had a lighter.  Sure enough, they did, and they were kind enough to give us a light.

With lit cigarettes and about to drive away, the older of the two says, “Hey, can we get a ride up to the check cashing place?”

C’mon, guys, you know what happens next!  I had my gun hidden between the driver’s seat and the center console, and I reached down to take it off safety.  These two guys were sketchy. After being asked if I had wanted to buy “snow” about 30 seconds before I met these guys, I was really nervous.

We brought them about 5 minutes down the road to get their checks cashed, and we had a great time - all was well. They asked for a ride home, and since Red and I had decided that these two probably were not all that scary after all, we agreed.  They went inside, and I reached down to put my gun back on safety.

I grabbed the gun, and BANG! It went off, right out the front windsheild.  Thankfully, Red was in the back seat, and so he wasn’t in the line of fire.  The two hitch hikers looked outside with a priceless look on their face, and I took off back to the campsite.  No one got hurt, but Red has taken up calling me by a new nickname.  Joe.

How do you spell that?

Only in Citrus County.

Only In Citrus County can you get away with murder... of a windsheild.