LoL, dad was telling me how when he was a kid, his cousin and himself got their hands on some machine guns and ammo from some revolution or the next and were messing around, target practising... But the cops found them and took the guns. So my dad, the cocksure genius that he was, came up with a plan, citing his standing as a prominent member of the cultural youth community, walked into the police station and said he is putting up a tribute play and needs props. The cops gave him four bigger machine guns, two of which were perfectly functional. (But where did you get the ammo, man? Oh, Hungary was just undergoing another one of their civil wars, you could get baskets of ammo from the streets...)

Never mind dad doesn't exactly have all his fingers - how the fuck did that kid survive into adulthood?