As scary as it sounds, YES I do know this guy, either that or it's his twin, explaining this would take a thread of it's own, and I'm not ready to divulge such a humorous event yet.
This is a discussion on Just tooooooo funny within the Off Topic & Humor Discussion forums, part of the The Back Porch category; Anybody know this guy? As I was leaving my house I stuffed my Glock 10mm "man gun" Mexican style in my pants. My backup is ...
Anybody know this guy?
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 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 9-1-1 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 butt, 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
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 rear 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 stuck in my rump. 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 rump slowed me down. I knew it would have to be
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 too, 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.
He and his buddies are at the Ben Avery Range every weekend. Never shooting, just giving advise. That's why I shoot in the desert.
Treat me good, I'll treat you better. Treat me bad, I'll treat you worse.
Is this a story from The Mall Ninja?