5:26 PM |
Besides putting animals to eternal rest, I have only brandished my firearm once. At that time, my house was a one bedroom. I slept upstairs, and the bathroom was downstairs. I had no windows on the road side of my property (and for the bypassers' sake, it was a good thing). I also had a cute-as-the-dickens carved mailbox that looked like a rooster.
Out here, there is absolutely nothing for teenagers to do. You see where I am going with this. Once I heard a noise and in the morning found my mailbox ripped off its pole, but fairly intact. The next time it was demolished. I had to search and search for another one that somebody may have had lying around, as the creator was old and had died. Finally, I put up the new one.
Well, one night I could hear the heavy bass that had stopped about where my mailbox would be. I ran down the stairs and out the front door with my white nightie on and a Glock in my hand. I was a sight. I have always wanted to point a gun at an assailant and bark something suitably bad-ass. Here was my chance. With the foyer light at my back, I ran up toward the mailbox and one kid peeing.
Don't EVER come back here again! And they never came back. Until the rooster's head was removed. My dear Mexican gardeners made me a new one, with a reflector under its beak, like that red wrinkly thing real roosters have.
There is a kicker to this story. One day, two young men in a truck were stopped at the end of the driveway. Can we borrow your phone? What do you need?, I asked. Well, ma'am, do you have some gas? Of course, here's the container, take what you want. They did. And they were the same boys I nearly shot.
Out here, there is absolutely nothing for teenagers to do. You see where I am going with this. Once I heard a noise and in the morning found my mailbox ripped off its pole, but fairly intact. The next time it was demolished. I had to search and search for another one that somebody may have had lying around, as the creator was old and had died. Finally, I put up the new one.
Well, one night I could hear the heavy bass that had stopped about where my mailbox would be. I ran down the stairs and out the front door with my white nightie on and a Glock in my hand. I was a sight. I have always wanted to point a gun at an assailant and bark something suitably bad-ass. Here was my chance. With the foyer light at my back, I ran up toward the mailbox and one kid peeing.
Don't EVER come back here again! And they never came back. Until the rooster's head was removed. My dear Mexican gardeners made me a new one, with a reflector under its beak, like that red wrinkly thing real roosters have.
There is a kicker to this story. One day, two young men in a truck were stopped at the end of the driveway. Can we borrow your phone? What do you need?, I asked. Well, ma'am, do you have some gas? Of course, here's the container, take what you want. They did. And they were the same boys I nearly shot.