Tell Me Honestly, Honey...

Does this holster make me look fat?

I probably wasted more time online picking out the holster than the revolver, but we really won't know if they look good together until the mail comes two-to-six weeks from now. Until then she goes around in the original box, wrapped in an oily rag.

For a graphic display of violence, Scott had me fill four gallon milk jugs with water and line them up in two rows, two deep.

"That's approximately the density of a... uh... a body," he said, "Now shoot the first pair with your .38."

Aim... squeeze... Pow! The jugs jumped up and then settled back to slowly drizzle to death--two small holes in each.

OK, now try this, he said, handing me a .357 cartridge. I braced myself for a little more kick. Aim... squeeze...

KA-POOM!

"Holy $#*@!" I said, or words to that effect. The bullet entered the first jug through the same small hole but exited the back like a shotgun blast, and shredded the second jug front to back. Both lay empty.