Conversations with Ben

I have a friend named Benito that I've known for quite a while and he really is a unique character. I regularly have conversations with him that leave me scratching my head and wondering afterwards. I'm not sure that his brand of strangeness can be translated through the blogosphere, but I thought I'd share a story or two and see how it goes. In order to protect his identity, I've decided to call him "Ben."

So Ben is a security guard for an office building in midtown. Some time ago, he told me that he was going to get his Armed Guard license, as this would mean better money and opportunities in his chosen career. The thought of this guy legally carrying a gun is a frightening prospect, however the conversation I had with him about it shows that its likelihood is basically nil.
Ben explained the process to me: he needed to have an interview or two with some official, then he would submit an application for the appropriate gun license. It takes two months to process these applications, and on approval, the applicant has sixty days from receipt of his or her license to acquire a regulation firearm or that person must begin the process all over again.
"And that, Reggie," he said ominously, "that's what's gonna fuck me."
I was puzzled about what he meant, so I asked, "What, do you think you won't get approved?"
"No, no, no," said Ben, hurriedly, "I shouldn't have any problem getting a license."
"So what's the problem?" I wondered aloud, "Are you worried about not having the money to get a gun?"
"No, I already have the money," explained Ben, "I know which one I want. A .45 Magnum, something with stopping power." (Yikes!)
I was really confused. "So what is it, Ben? What's the problem here?"
Ben was very serious when he said, "I'm afraid I'll forget to get the gun in time once I get the license."
I had to stop and think over what he said. Ben's worry was that, in a two month window of time, he would forget to get a firearm. After being prompted by receipt of a license. This, after a long application process and background check.
"Ben," I said, incredulously, "worrying about forgetting is practically the definition of remembering something!"
Ben was quiet for a moment, then said, "Well yeah, but you know me."

Only too well, Ben.

We only had one other conversation about him becoming an armed guard that I can remember, where I tried to impress upon him the importance of keeping the weapon holstered except under dire circumstances. Ben is definitely the kind of guy that would use his gun to crack walnuts or to threaten a slow fast food worker when he's hungry. Ben is kind of a loose cannon, prone to violent outbursts from time to time.
"Oh, you don't have to worry about that, Reggie," he assured me, "I hope I never have to use my gun for my entire career. I plan on keeping it either in my waist or ankle holster." I did a mental double-take.
"Ankle holster?" I said, "Are you planning on working undercover for the CIA at any point, Ben?"
"Well no, but it's a good place to keep a weapon," explained Ben.
"Yes, the ankle holster is great, Ben," I said, wearily, "if you plan on being subdued by captors and want to fake unconsciousness until such time that you can pull your secreted weapon. I don't see how a security guard would ever need this.
"Furthermore," I continued, "how do you plan on keeping a Colt .45 Magnum at your ankle?" For the uninitiated, the .45 is a relatively large handgun, not something you would stash in your ankle holster. Clint Eastwood regularly carried a Colt .45 in his Westerns, though with a longer barrel than usual.
Ben seemed stumped for a minute, then suddenly replied, "Well, maybe I'll saw off the barrel."

Great. Ben wants to carry a sawed-off .45 handgun at his ankle. Please, God, don't let him ever get a gun, lest he blow someone's face or his own foot off.