Only anti-gunner in my neighborhood lives across the street (she sings the praises of the Brady Bunch and thinks that Bloomberg is an angel sent from heaven to culture all of us dangerous gun owners), and I periodically just stir the pot with her by cleaning guns in the front yard while she's out doing yardwork.
Always brings on either: A. a speech about how I'm Satan incarnate (which... frankly... probably has more to do with the time I gave her ex-lax brownies than anything), or B. a frantic 911 call to the local police department about how there's a dangerous criminal psychopath who owns and *gasp* cleans guns living across the street from her.
Last time she stormed over, as soon as she started her rant, I stood up, told her I had someone for her to meet, turned around, bent over, and dropped my pants... which led to a long and absolutely hilarious scream of abject horror from her, and a slightly shorter but significantly MORE hilarious review of the 911 transcript with the cop that showed up trying not to choke from laughing.
Have I mentioned I might be a spectacularly evil person when it all comes down to it? Because that might be an important point to make...