The Night before Christmas (as it should be........) 'Twas the night before Christmas, cold, dark and foreboding, I sat at the work bench, quite busy reloading. The empties from autumn were polished so clear for primers and powder and bullets from Speer and Hornady’s soft-points, and Nosler’s Partitions (my bench Ain’t no place for brand name omissions!). All sat in their boxes, right next to the press with dies from Pacific, and RCBS, when all of a sudden there came such a jolt, I grabbed for my Benelli and whipped out my Colt. As I spilled Hodgdon's powder all over the shelf, I scrambled for cover, just to protect myself. From up on the rooftop, came hoof beats and snorting like the noise out of L'il Rock from Clinton's cavorting! I eased off the safety to press-check my auto With 230-talons I'll knock 'em all blotto. Were these rogue federal agents sent by Schumer and Reno ? Or a staggering Ted Kennedy, in bad need of vino? My question was answered with a knock, and some sneezing, "It's Santa, you moron, lemme in there, I'm freezing!" I flipped off the dead-bolt and threw the door wide to find St. Nick a shivering, Rudolph by his side. He eyeballed my AK with a nod of approval "You're all set," he said, "for dirtball removal." "But this is no raid, we're not here to harm you nor persecute, prosecute, nor even disarm you." "Instead," said dear Santa, "I needed to borrow your .357 'till day after tomorrow." "It's okay," he assured me, with a hint of frustration, "I'm enrolled in the National Rifle Association." He showed me his card, 'twas a Life Member rating, "I've had this since me and the missus were dating!" "And you see, Dave, ol' buddy, I've gotten real nervous since Feinstein was elected with a promise to serve us. So henceforth as I'm out there, my presents a stackin', I want to assure you, I'm legally packin'', and my gift for you this year should give you a hoot I've told the Supreme Court to give Brady the boot! Now, Rudolph and I must be on our way," he said as he climbed back into his sleigh. With the reins in his hand and my Colt in his pocket, he jingled the sleighbells and was off like a rocket. With a pair of speedloaders and ammo to spare, I knew he'd be safe, he was loaded for bear! As he faded from view, I could still hear him calling "From D.C., where 'P.C.' is already falling. To bad guys in L.A. , Detroit and Atlanta , "I'm licensed to carry, don't go messin' with Santa!"