Chapter 159: Good Uncle Ron
The phone call ended with the old couple debating whether homosexuality is in line with God's will. On this topic, Mary finally won by threatening not to give George money to buy beer.
Yes, ever since George's heart attack years ago, at Ron's suggestion, George has lost his financial independence—supposedly for his health, of course.
The facts proved that by drinking less beer and having proper father-son workout sessions with Ron, George has maintained good shape and is still alive and kicking.
After hanging up, Penny had already left, leaving only Howard, Leonard and Raj arguing about which supermodel on TV would be most suitable to marry. Ron clapped his hands helplessly.
"Hey, guys, do you really think those women have anything to do with you? Instead of wasting time, why don't you help me think of something more practical? Like, what kind of gifts do you think would be good for a kid?"
"Children!" Sheldon recoiled in horror. "You're not going to..."
Howard: "If you're thinking of getting a gift for a kid, your best bet is a comic book store. There are kids there, from toddlers just learning to read to teenagers wearing Flash costumes doing physics homework."
"I bet that kid still keeps a daily log about his bowel movements," Leonard said, looking disgusted because he'd actually seen those logs.
Ron felt like asking these nerdy scientists this question was a complete waste of time. He had no choice but to throw the question to his sister Fiona, who was raising four kids on her own. Fiona proved much more reliable.
The next day,
Ron prepared himself to meet Claire, his "archenemy" from middle school. Of course, Claire was only an "archenemy" in Claire's mind. Back then, Ron had never taken his rebellious niece, six years younger than him, seriously.
She was just a little, immature brat, so how could he really take her seriously? Little did he know, this attitude was exactly what made his relationship with Claire even worse.
But Ron hadn't expected the hilarious scene he'd witness when he pushed open the door.
"Hey, Ron," Phil said, sliding down the stair railing. "Oh my God, my back! Oh God!"
Phil had apparently slipped and fallen to the ground in an awkward position.
"Kids, this is your Uncle Ron. Ron, come help me get Phil to the couch!" Claire quickly called for Ron's assistance.
"Are you sure?" Ron smirked. "Are you sure this isn't too traumatic? There are so many kids here."
"Come on, hurry up!" Ron picked up Phil, while Claire kept fussing beside him, "Are you sure we don't need to call a paramedic?"
She looked like a devoted wife and mother, with none of the rebellious attitude she once had.
"Easy, easy." Phil complained softly, "Oh man, where did this guy come from? In a fair fight, I could totally take him down, Ron."
"I think you better forget about it. You were just as scrawny as you are now when I first met you. If Uncle Jay hadn't told me you were Claire's classmate, I would've probably beaten you to a pulp. I was only 12 years old that year, and you were 18."
"Let's go to my room." Haley didn't care about the new strange uncle at all. She pulled the young man who was unfamiliar to Ron toward the stairs.
"Ron, that's Haley's boyfriend. Help me scare him off so he'll give up, and we'll call all our old scores even!"
Claire took the opportunity to help Phil get comfortable and whispered in Ron's ear.
"No problem," Ron nodded, turning around and immediately putting on a friendly smile. "You must be Haley? I'm Ron, your grandparents' grandson. You can call me Uncle Ron. The last time I saw you, you were just a baby."
"Really? But I've never seen you before."
It had to be said that Ron's handsome appearance was quite impressive to a naive girl like Haley. She left her boyfriend behind and hurried down the stairs.
"You're way more handsome than Uncle Mitchell."
"Maybe it's because I stay so busy. Wait," Ron's eyes caught sight of Phil's dropped shoes on the floor. An idea suddenly occurred to him: "Aren't these Phil's shoes? Phil, want me to grab them for you?"
Ron bent down to pick up Phil's shoes and "accidentally" dropped his Treasury Department badge, which landed right at the young man's feet.
"Is... is this your badge?!" The young man picked up Ron's ID, looking confused.
"Yes, that's right. That's my federal badge. I'm a Treasury agent. Thanks, young man. What's your name?" Ron's friendly smile gradually took on a different meaning in the handsome young man's eyes.
After all, federal agents are well-known throughout America. In some places, Americans even scare misbehaving children by telling them that if they don't behave, the feds will come take them away, lock them up, and confiscate all their allowance!
"Uh, hello, my name is Dylan." The young man nervously extended his hand to Ron, who of course extended his hand in return.
Just before his badge fell, he had done something to his shoulder holster, gently adjusting it with the handshake gesture.
"Thud!"
A Smith & Wesson Model 500 revolver fell to the ground, leaving everyone stunned.
"Everyone, stay calm," Ron said, raising his hands in a reassuring gesture. "As a federal agent, it's only natural for me to carry a weapon at all times, right?"
Dylan nodded robotically. Claire gave Ron a subtle thumbs-up and mouthed, "Perfect! Keep it up!"
Ron winked.
Ron picked up the gun, wiped it on his sleeve, and offered it to Dylan. "This is the most powerful handgun Smith & Wesson makes, and one of my favorite weapons. Ever fired one?"
Dylan, startled by Ron's question, quickly shook his head.
"It fires .50 caliber high-powered rounds. One shot is powerful enough to blow a person's head clean off, like a watermelon exploding. It's incredible."
Ron licked his lips. "Actually, I just used it to rescue a female hostage last week. Maybe I was standing too close, and the perp's blood splattered all over the woman. That's probably the only downside of this gun. Want to give it a try?"
Ron said this disturbing thing with apparent regret, absolutely terrifying the young man.
"No, I just play guitar." Dylan quickly pulled his hand back as if he had touched a red-hot poker.
(End of chapter)
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