The shaman decided that it would be easiest to just sit by the cave and wait for Pooh to show up. He usually did at whatever time he felt most propitious for obtaining a second breakfast. While he was waiting, he heard a rustle on the gravel and looked up just in time to see his old doppleganger, Nosmo King strutting out of the shadows.
“Shaman! Babes! How’s it hanging?”
“Hello Nosmo,” the shaman replied. “I have not seen you in quite some time.”
“I’ve been busy you see. Making the deals and makin’ girls squeal”
“. . . and getting’ it done all the way around,” finished shaman. “So how badly in debt are you now?”
“See, that is why I came here, my friend, I wanted to announce that I am in fat city, so to speak.”
“The outdoor industry is finally yielding its rewards?”
“Naw! That’s old stuff. I’m into something far more promising and lucrative.”
“Oh, and what might that be?”
“Guess.”
“Selling time shares?”
Nosmo shook his head.
“Reverse mortgages?”
“Shaman, I’m surprised at you. I would never get into anything like that.”
“Brokering east Asian body parts?”
“I dabbled in that for a bit, but this is far more fashionable.”
“Okay,” relented the shaman, “I give up.”
“What would you say if I told you that I had the inside line on a pile of Ninety-Nines in 6.5 Creedmire.”
“It’s Creedmoor.”
“Whatever. I got them surplus. Six point five is the in thing these days. And you’re not going to find a brand new Savage 99 anywhere.”
“OK. I’ll bite. Let’s see what you’ve got.” The shaman’s doppleganger reached behind himself and brought out an ugly looking bolt action. “That’s one of the worst looking rifles I’ve ever seen.”
“That right there is history. That’s absolute best rifle Japan ever produced in 1938. They were sitting in a warehouse in Estonia.”
“ It is not a Savage 99.”
“As I said, you’re not going to find one new. This is a used rifle.”
“It’s not even a lever action.”
“The Japanese were smart. They knew lever actions weren’t the way to go. This is far more reliable in battle.”
“It’s a dog. It’s not even a decent relic. Someone has gone and chopped a foot off the barrel.”
“It’s sporterized. Think Scout Rifle. Think carbine”
“It’s trash. You said it was 6.5 Creedmoor.”
“No. I said it was 6.5 Creedmire.”
“OK, Creedmore- Creedmire. It’s still a 6.5! I’ve got a whole warehouse full of these.”
“So you’re trying to sell me a warehouse full of de-milled Type 99 Arisakas and telling me they’re going somehow rework them into modern 6.5 Creedmoor rifles?
“No, I’m saying we just resell them as fixer-uppers and let the other guys figure it out. Look at all the Mosin Nagants. Look at all the Schmidt Rubins.
“Those were classics. These are absolute crap!” replied the shaman. “So was the 6.5X50. It bounced off.”
“The world needs a new intermediate 6.5 cartridge. Think of it as a rimmed version of the 6.5 Creedmoor-- well, sort of. We re-purpose it as the 6.5 Creedmire and we’re in! I’ve got a Turkish ammo manufacturer all ready to go on a production run. You should see the boxes. The font is perfect. If you’re not looking closely you’d think the ‘I’ is an ‘O’ ”
“No, that’s not how its done anymore. You have to take a really obscure modern round and modify it slightly-- maybe neck it down or something-- and then rebrand it into something special before hyping the hell out of it. That’s where you come in, my friend. We’ll need some good press. ”
“I’ve got a line on some Chinese Mausers.” Nosmo replied. “How does .277 Shaman sound for a chambering?”
“Go back to selling organs!” replied the shaman.
