My Latest Gun Fight (1594 hits)
Category: NoneRating: 1.76 on 13 reviews (Rate this item) (V)
Submitted by Mustard Man (View user info) at 2009-07-10 00:36:04 EDT
It was a warm spring day, just like any other. The month is April, the day Sunday, time 11:34 hours. I have let a pile of dirty laundry accumulate, as Internet research has proven Sunday to be the most tactically sound laundry day. I place my laundry in an opaque polyurethane refuse containment system or OPRCS (Trash bag to all you sheep.) and drop it next to my front door. Since I plan only to double time it to the soiled apparel cleansing center (or SACC) make use of its facilities and return to central command I go virtually naked. Carrying only my Smith & Wesson 1066 10mm (in a Safariland shoulder holster), my Skyy CPX-1 9mm (in a Bianchi pocket holster) and my North American Arms mini-revolver .22 (tucked away in the crevice of my buttocks). Slowly, 10mm in hand, I crack the door open, peering out into the nearly-noon day sun. Scanning the area for Tangos I see nothing and place the Smith back in its leather home. Next I grab the OPRCS and begin to make haste to my destination.
Aside from a few suspicious looking teens (which I made note of for future reference) the trip in uneventful. I arrive at the SACC and examine the scene. The building is empty, no machines running. This is a welcome relief, as I always feel duty bound to protect the sheep around me. As well as it is a known fact that tangos, thugs, and urban youth gangs all prefer SACCs (or "Laundromats" as they are know on the street.) for their lairs/bases of operation. I quickly choose a machine based on the principles I learned from SACC guru Eugene Smith at one of his bi-monthly seminars, and deposit my laundry in it.
Making use of the 28 minutes that it takes the machine to complete its cycle I decide to do a series of training drills in the parking lot. 15 minutes into my exercise I take a break, and enter back into the SACC to make use of the vending machine. I select a bag of Doritos and give it a quick shot of OC spray for that extra kick. Upon finishing my snack I return to the parking lot for a few more drills. Before I can begin a black and white from the local PD pulls in. Being an "unofficial" officer I walk up and begin to exchange intelligence (specifically about the suspicious teens.). He informs me that he got a call of a mentally challenged individual having a seizure in the parking lot. I inform him that he must have been the victim of a prank call, as I was just in the parking lot doing some training and saw nothing of the sort. At which point he rolled up his window and quickly drove away, I suspect he got an urgent call, because I was in the middle of asking him if he knew a source for camouflage Kevlar boxer shorts that weren't likely to chafe. I decided that there wasn't enough time for more drills and returned to my carefully selected machine.
My 6th sense must have been working overtime, because just as I arrived the buzzer sounded. I had begun to refill my OPRCS when suddenly from around the corner I heard the door swing open. I crouched behind the washer and placed my hand on the 1066. With a muffled click I take it "off safe" and begin to low crawl toward the corner, allowing me to get a look at whoever, or whatever, has just walked in. I peer around the corner and analyze the situation. There are 2 males of olive complexion, one 6', the other slightly shorter. Since they are both holding baskets of laundry I decide they are probably not a threat and return to the task at hand.
I am started as the taller of the SACC patrons appears from behind the corner and says a greeting. Maintaining situational awareness I reply with a greeting of my own. He then asked me where the washroom was. Washroom? WASHROOM? Every red blooded American refers to it as a "bathroom". I realize that this is no ordinary SACC user and decide I had better take a good look at him. I begin to make mental notes about his appearance in case I need to identify him in a police lineup or Al Queda terrorist video. It was then that I noticed his "I love the Dixie Chicks" Tee shirt. This was no ordinary SACCer, THIS WAS A TANGO! How had my training let me down? How could I not see it before? Setting aside those questions for later I immediately pull my 1066 from my tactical windbreaker and place the front tritium dot dead center on his golden triangle. Realizing he was finished his eyes popped out in a cartoonish fashion. He must have recognized the mighty stainless steel beast and KNEW what the potent "10" would do. Pulling the trigger I am hurled across the room by the blast. Though I was sure I would hit him square in the chest I miss him completely. No matter, the concussion of the 200 grain Gold Dot whizzing past rips off his leg at the knee, hurling it into the vending machine shattering the glass. The bullet puts a baseball size hole in a nearby drier. Then proceeds to knock a pumpkin size cavity in the wall. It comes to rest inside a telephone pole across the street, which immediately bursts into flames and collapses into itself. The power cuts out in an instant.
Taking advantage of the darkness and my temporary daze from the 10's recoil the tango hops over to me and grabs at the Smith. We grapple over the gun, and blast a hole into the ceiling. Due to the adrenaline from the scuffle neither of us is affected by the recoil. Falling back on countless hours of Internet reading I decide to drop the mag of the smith. The S&W is equipped with a magazine safety, ejecting the mag disables the piece. I let the Tango have the pistol and pull out the Skyy while diving behind a bank of washers. The Tango fiercely clicks the trigger, not realizing that it is useless without the mag, which I kicked under the soda machine as soon as it hit the floor. Saying a quick prayer of potency I begin to fire a double tap from the puny 9mm. The 124 grain golden sabers refuse to hit the Tango. Despite my expert marksmanship all of them curve around the target, and bounce off the cinder block wall behind him, as the "9" is so known to do. I fire off 10 rounds leaving me only one. But I had a big surprise for Mr. Tango. I had loaded 1 round of Extreme Shock Fangface for just such an occasion. I squeeze the trigger on the preferred anti-tango round. BAWOOOOM! The pistol fires, but it cannot contain the awesome power of Extreme shock. The barrel splits, the slide splits, and indeed even space-time splits for a brief second. The back half of the slide flies back and hits me on the forehead, at which point I tactically evacuated my bowels as I fell backward. I quickly regain focus and scan the room. The Tango is dead, his head now a stain on the ceiling and a fine red mist hanging in the air.
But my work is not yet finished. Tango 2 is still out there, somewhere. I go for my last ditch weapon. As I retrieve the NAA revolver from my crevice I discover that it has taken on a dark earth hue, most likely as a result of my tactical bowel evacuation. As I slowly round the corner I see that the severed leg of the tango had not only demolished the vending machine, it had embedded itself into the chest of his buddy, killing him. I ease the hammer of the .22 down to half cock, take the 1066 out of the cold, dead fingers of the headless tango and slap in a fresh mag. Then I pick up my OPRCS and exit the SACC. Being down to only 19 round of 10mm and 5 .22 stingers I don't need to get into any more "situations" until I can re-arm. Since there was a high likelihood of more tangos in the area I sprint back to my compound. I reach it in record time, stopping only once for a hotdog. Slamming the door, and securing the dead bolt I finally relax. As I slump down into my tactical lazy boy and begin to check the pages of Glocktalk I hear sirens off in the distance, but the cops are too late, justice has already been served.
User Reviews
Submitted by Bubba2341 (user info) at 2009-07-11 05:52:15 EDT (#)
Ranking: 2
"Keeps a ten bob note up his nose."
Submitted by EmissionImpossible (user info) at 2009-07-10 15:13:20 EDT (#)
Ranking: 2
i think i want to investigate Roadsongs ass cheeks
Submitted by JoeyG (user info) at 2009-07-10 14:35:12 EDT (#)
Ranking: 2
Submitted by RoadSong (user info) at 2009-07-10 05:54:28 BST (#)
Ranking: 2
Thats where I carry my pistola also...tucked away in the crevice of my buttocks.
heh
------
So THAT'S why you're always sitting down...
Submitted by locksly (user info) at 2009-07-10 08:49:57 EDT (#)
Ranking: 1
I laughed at the carpark bit
Submitted by monkeyswithguns (user info) at 2009-07-10 07:52:45 EDT (#)
Ranking: 2
This makes me want to write a story about a crazy alcoholic neo-nazi militia member I knew once. Maybe by the end of the day if it's slow at work.
Submitted by TuTs (user info) at 2009-07-10 06:57:10 EDT (#)
Ranking: 2
Like a funny crazy vietnam vet.
Submitted by skrapmetal (user info) at 2009-07-10 06:48:54 EDT (#)
Ranking: 1
Flashes of funny and overall a good read.
Submitted by sexualchocolate1984 (user info) at 2009-07-10 06:25:27 EDT (#)
Ranking: 2
Very entertaining read, silly, fun, and entertaining.
Submitted by Ducky (user info) at 2009-07-10 04:09:24 EDT (#)
Ranking: 2
I read this out loud in a very serious tone. Tactically, I found it very funny.
Submitted by cheerios (user info) at 2009-07-10 02:06:58 EDT (#)
Ranking: 2
superb.
Submitted by JonnyX (user info) at 2009-07-10 01:08:25 EDT (#)
Ranking: 2
Tango is code-word for...Kanye West?
Submitted by X54 (user info) at 2009-07-10 00:56:25 EDT (#)
Ranking: 1
I want some of whatever you're smoking.
Submitted by RoadSong (user info) at 2009-07-10 00:54:28 EDT (#)
Ranking: 2
"Carrying only my Smith & Wesson 1066 10mm (in a Safariland shoulder holster), my Skyy CPX-1 9mm (in a Bianchi pocket holster) and my North American Arms mini-revolver .22 (tucked away in the crevice of my buttocks)."
Thats where I carry my pistola also...tucked away in the crevice of my buttocks.
heh