This story isn’t about me, nor is it really a tale of woe. Well, maybe it’s a tale of woe for some of the persons involved, but not for the person who told me the story, my friend Troy.

Troy and I both worked part time for a national bookstore chain. I was a recent college graduate, living at home, and wondering constantly about what the hell I was going to do with the rest of my life. Troy was recently divorced, had an eighteen-year-old daughter, and lived in an efficiency apartment that was once an attic to an old home. He hailed from Memphis, was in his late 30′s, had a great southern accent, and wore his hair in a severe flattop, which belied his usual jaunty attitude. When we first met, one of the first things he told me, which endeared me to him immediately, was that every Wednesday night he attended anger management classes.

So, on with the story. Troy, at the time of this story, was in his early 20′s, still married, his daughter a mere 12 months old, and he had just bought his first house in Memphis. All this is to say he was strapped for cash.

One day, while working in the yard, Troy was approached by two male salesmen. They were selling encyclopedias, they told Troy. Troy explained that he wasn’t exactly in the market for an expensive set of encyclopedias.

“Oh, that’s no problem,” said one of the salesmen. “Just let us show you what we have to offer. There’s no pressure to buy.”

Troy finally succumbed and let the men inside his home. While Troy’s wife cooked dinner in the kitchen, the salesmen gave their spiel about their awesome encyclopedias. Then, when the sales pitch ended, one of the salesmen asked Troy, “So, how would you like to pay for these?”

“Listen,” Troy said, “I told you before you came in here that I’m not looking to buy any encyclopedias.”

Then the salesmen let Troy have it. Didn’t Troy care about his daughter’s education? Didn’t he want to provide knowledge to his burgeoning family? Wasn’t he, as the obvious head of the household, concerned with giving what was best to his family?

Troy said nothing. He eased off the couch and approached a nearby cabinet.

Troy’s wife saw what Troy was doing and started pleading, “No, Troy, don’t! Don’t!”

So, Troy did what any self-respecting southern man in his position might do. He opened the cabinet, calmly reached in, and then drew out a handgun, which he promptly pointed at the salesmen.

“Get out,” Troy said. “And leave them books.”

Did Troy actually say, “And leave them books”? Well, no he didn’t, he admitted moments after telling me this story, but I’d like to think that Troy was thinking this as the salesmen grabbed their books and fled his home.