Cryptic
03-19-2006, 07:22 PM
As I was leaving my house to go to the store today, I stuffed my Glock 10mm
"man gun" Mexican style in my pants. My backup is a fully customized 1911
with all the IPSC add-on options in my $500.00 leather pancake holster
custom made by Belgian Monks who have devoted their lives to silence and
holster making. These are the ones used by Delta, which I used to be a part
of but all records of my activities were destroyed in a fire "accident".
I put on my Royal Robbins photographer vest to match my pants while wearing
a T-Shirt underneath reading "RANGER." That way, nobody can see what I'm
packing. I had my Centennial .38 Special in my ankle holster, just like the
gun rag guys carry. Lastly I had my "Covert Sniper" I.D. Card in my wallet
with my "Concealed Weapons Permit Badge".
I was ready for anything.
I drove my "bug-out truck" to the 7-11 for some beer, 'cause you never know.
It is a performance-styled Subaru BRAT with 4 cylinders of ground pounding
fury.
I pull up to the 7-11 store and notice a nervous looking girl scout
eyeballing me from the back of her mother's SUV. A likely cover. The mother
returned to the truck and went for the keys in her purse, but I knew from my
years of combat-honed instincts that she was actually making a furtive
movement for an offensive weapon. I attempted a tactical shoulder roll, but
fell flat on my face, kind of flopping on the pavement to avoid any incoming
rounds and to make it look like I meant to do that.
The store owner called 911 which is good, because I then did a roll and
attempted to draw my Glock. Unfortunately, since I did not have a holster,
the gun "went off" and the bullet creased my wiener. But I was prepared for
that and bit down on a 9mm casing to take my mind off the pain as I dove for
the garbage barrel. That's when I noticed the girl scout shouting something
to her mother who began to take cover. I knew they were closing on me so I
drew my trusty custom 1911 Wilson COMBAT....I knew that they would be
impressed with that.
I then duck walked to the front of her SUV but my gut kinda got in the way
and I fell on my ass, which caused me to swallow my 9mm casing.
I then tried to roll to my right, but didn't want to scuff my holster, so I
just threw myself into a telephone pole, but I landed on my right side
anyway. So I fired one shot towards the woman's SUV to pin them down as I
recovered my wind.
Before the mother knew what was happening, I charged her and I threw my
groin into her knee. I knew that as I vomited on the ground in front of her
that I had interrupted her OODA loop, and I had the advantage now. As she
ran screaming for the Girl Scout (I knew she was going for backup) I made
for my super-charged BRAT tactical truck.
I jumped into the driver seat, forgetting that I had left my rare Israeli
contract AR 15 Bayonet on the seat (honed to a razors edge). I could handle
it though; half my ass is an implant from war wounds. As I attempted to
start my truck, police and paramedics arrived on the scene.
My truck would not start and instead backfired once and caused the police to
taze me.
At this point, I tactically soiled myself while in convulsions. My custom
1911 then fell out the window, but I still had my Centennial .38. I knew
then that I had to take out the woman with the purse. So I aimed my revolver
at her, at which point the first police officer fired once striking me in
the chest. Fortunately, I was wearing my level 3A body armor.
I didn't want to hurt the cops, they had obviously been duped by the evil
temptress who was now embracing her partner in crime and crying to the
police in the background - I knew it was a ruse. I pulled out my concealed
weapons permit badge and showed it to the officer who shot me and yelled out
"I'm one of you guys!!!" He continued to cover me, and ordered me to drop my
38 so I laid it down. After all, I still had my bayonet attached to my ass.
The cop walked toward me, and upon reading the badge maced me right in the
eyes.
Fortunately, my Oakley shooting glasses stopped most of the spray and I was
able to rip free of the Taser cords easily. It only cost me one
nipple...easily replaced. I dove for the passenger side of my truck and
began to run zig zag for a ditch. Unfortunately, the bayonet sticking out of
my ass slowed me down. I knew it would have to be hand-to-hand now.
I knew the cop couldn't take me when I saw he merely carried a Glock 17, not
a man's gun. So I immediately threw my eye into his right hook, followed by
a knee into his mag light. As I lay thrashing on the ground, I took the heel
of my Bates enforcer boot and kicked at the cops ankle. I knew from my
classified experiences in Tajikistan that once I broke his ankle, the cop
would fall down and I could "stun kick" him in the head, knocking him out
but not hurting him.
Apparently the cop had also been to Tajikistan, because he side stepped me
and struck me in the back with his ASP baton, but my trauma plate absorbed
it. I then drew my Benchmade auto knife and was promptly tased again, but I
was ready for it this time and only wet myself a little bit. Next thing
those cops knew, I was unconscious.
That'll teach 'em.
"man gun" Mexican style in my pants. My backup is a fully customized 1911
with all the IPSC add-on options in my $500.00 leather pancake holster
custom made by Belgian Monks who have devoted their lives to silence and
holster making. These are the ones used by Delta, which I used to be a part
of but all records of my activities were destroyed in a fire "accident".
I put on my Royal Robbins photographer vest to match my pants while wearing
a T-Shirt underneath reading "RANGER." That way, nobody can see what I'm
packing. I had my Centennial .38 Special in my ankle holster, just like the
gun rag guys carry. Lastly I had my "Covert Sniper" I.D. Card in my wallet
with my "Concealed Weapons Permit Badge".
I was ready for anything.
I drove my "bug-out truck" to the 7-11 for some beer, 'cause you never know.
It is a performance-styled Subaru BRAT with 4 cylinders of ground pounding
fury.
I pull up to the 7-11 store and notice a nervous looking girl scout
eyeballing me from the back of her mother's SUV. A likely cover. The mother
returned to the truck and went for the keys in her purse, but I knew from my
years of combat-honed instincts that she was actually making a furtive
movement for an offensive weapon. I attempted a tactical shoulder roll, but
fell flat on my face, kind of flopping on the pavement to avoid any incoming
rounds and to make it look like I meant to do that.
The store owner called 911 which is good, because I then did a roll and
attempted to draw my Glock. Unfortunately, since I did not have a holster,
the gun "went off" and the bullet creased my wiener. But I was prepared for
that and bit down on a 9mm casing to take my mind off the pain as I dove for
the garbage barrel. That's when I noticed the girl scout shouting something
to her mother who began to take cover. I knew they were closing on me so I
drew my trusty custom 1911 Wilson COMBAT....I knew that they would be
impressed with that.
I then duck walked to the front of her SUV but my gut kinda got in the way
and I fell on my ass, which caused me to swallow my 9mm casing.
I then tried to roll to my right, but didn't want to scuff my holster, so I
just threw myself into a telephone pole, but I landed on my right side
anyway. So I fired one shot towards the woman's SUV to pin them down as I
recovered my wind.
Before the mother knew what was happening, I charged her and I threw my
groin into her knee. I knew that as I vomited on the ground in front of her
that I had interrupted her OODA loop, and I had the advantage now. As she
ran screaming for the Girl Scout (I knew she was going for backup) I made
for my super-charged BRAT tactical truck.
I jumped into the driver seat, forgetting that I had left my rare Israeli
contract AR 15 Bayonet on the seat (honed to a razors edge). I could handle
it though; half my ass is an implant from war wounds. As I attempted to
start my truck, police and paramedics arrived on the scene.
My truck would not start and instead backfired once and caused the police to
taze me.
At this point, I tactically soiled myself while in convulsions. My custom
1911 then fell out the window, but I still had my Centennial .38. I knew
then that I had to take out the woman with the purse. So I aimed my revolver
at her, at which point the first police officer fired once striking me in
the chest. Fortunately, I was wearing my level 3A body armor.
I didn't want to hurt the cops, they had obviously been duped by the evil
temptress who was now embracing her partner in crime and crying to the
police in the background - I knew it was a ruse. I pulled out my concealed
weapons permit badge and showed it to the officer who shot me and yelled out
"I'm one of you guys!!!" He continued to cover me, and ordered me to drop my
38 so I laid it down. After all, I still had my bayonet attached to my ass.
The cop walked toward me, and upon reading the badge maced me right in the
eyes.
Fortunately, my Oakley shooting glasses stopped most of the spray and I was
able to rip free of the Taser cords easily. It only cost me one
nipple...easily replaced. I dove for the passenger side of my truck and
began to run zig zag for a ditch. Unfortunately, the bayonet sticking out of
my ass slowed me down. I knew it would have to be hand-to-hand now.
I knew the cop couldn't take me when I saw he merely carried a Glock 17, not
a man's gun. So I immediately threw my eye into his right hook, followed by
a knee into his mag light. As I lay thrashing on the ground, I took the heel
of my Bates enforcer boot and kicked at the cops ankle. I knew from my
classified experiences in Tajikistan that once I broke his ankle, the cop
would fall down and I could "stun kick" him in the head, knocking him out
but not hurting him.
Apparently the cop had also been to Tajikistan, because he side stepped me
and struck me in the back with his ASP baton, but my trauma plate absorbed
it. I then drew my Benchmade auto knife and was promptly tased again, but I
was ready for it this time and only wet myself a little bit. Next thing
those cops knew, I was unconscious.
That'll teach 'em.