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I know it's one of you guys who posts here. I found this posted on the net so fess up and tell me when and where this happened:
My tactical day;
As I was leaving my house 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 SEAL Team 6, 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 "from my cold dead hands." 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 nefarious 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 weener. 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
***, 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 *** 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 ***. 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 *** 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.
My tactical day;
As I was leaving my house 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 SEAL Team 6, 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 "from my cold dead hands." 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 nefarious 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 weener. 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
***, 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 *** 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 ***. 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 *** 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.
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