You Know him, You Love him, Some of you are Him.
Tactical Tommy Goes to the Store
From a friend in the government. I'm pretty sure I know some people like
this:
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 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.
ht lets se if this works