My friends and I have a tradition that gets exercised every once in a while, but always at Hallowe'en: we rent a good pawful of horror movies, have some pizza delivered, pop some popcorn, and then sit down and give the movies a savage Mystery Science Theatre 3000 treatment.
Since the lot of us are gunnies, weapons feature prominently in our commentary.
One year, I decided to collect some of the one-liners and post them at TFL. They were an instant hit.
"My name is...Dracula. Velcome to my...vere the hell did you get a flamethrower?"
"Ma'am, we are at the highest location, with a clear line-of-sight for 1,000 yards, and Earl and I can neuter gnats at 400 yards with these .300 Weatherbys."
"Before you go into that dark, scary, critter-crawling basement why don't you toss in Uncle Bubba's lucky frag grenade?"
"He sure looks dead. Whack him with the fire axe a couple a more times to make sure."
"Sir, near as we can tell, the pyscho crashed something called a 'TFL Meet', fired up his chainsaw, and wound up catching more bullets than went through the last four John Woo movies."
"Darn right I believe you, miss. I've got Ft. Bragg on the phone right now."
"Camp Crystal Lake Welcomes the National IDPA Shoot-Off!"
"You know, since the ghoulies are fixated on this one woman, why don't we put some armed men inside the room where she's sleeping, instead of dinking around on the other side of the locked bedroom doors?"
"Okay, so the house told us to GET OUT. Set off the napalm, darling."
"Fire mission! Target is butcher with axe in the open, will adjust."
"Instead of sneaking around a vampire infested house after dark, why don't we blow the place with dynamite at noon?"
"Regenerate, schmegenerate. This is a Barret Light Fifty."
"Killer bats don't phase Jolene none. She's the State Sporting Clays Champeen."
"Folks, the horde of Evil Minions will be here any second. Now's your last chance to get a Horde Minion Hunting Permit."
"Father O'Bannon, I appreciate the Holy Evil-Slaying Dagger, I really do, but could you see your way into talking the Pope into blessing a Garand or three? This hand-to-hand stuff bites."
"Well, Mister Fed, near as we can tell, the engines in your little green fellas saucer don't do well around corn squeezin's. Pity they picked right next to Billy Bob's still for a landing. Found the biggest bits in the next county."
"Oh, my God, Mr. President, the Alien Overlords crashed a family reunion somewhere in Southwest Louisiana. Early reports indicate that the Conquerers of 10,000 Worlds made, and I quote: 'A damn fine jambalaya.' Unquote."
"I have a thought -- why don't we make the prototype of the genetically-modified killing thing bright neon orange? With a strobe light grafted to its head?"
"So, the sewers are full of evil mutant rats. Pump in three hundred gallons of cyanide, and let's go for tea."
"Okay, I get the point: they're werewolves. This is an RPG-7V. With reloads. Let's go play 'Fetch'."