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Story-The night I almost shot a hooker. (Not really shot)


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Ok by popular demand here is the story so many may laugh, some may learn, and all may enjoy!

It was a dark and stormy night and I was leaving my creative writing class... Oh wait wrong story.

Well anyway the night was dark. I was in bed and received a call from our roommate. She had broken down in a bad part of town and could not get a hold of her boyfriend who was at work.

The wife and I get dressed and armed and head to see if I can fix the car. She is parked on the off-ramp with her flashers going and pretty freaked out/pissed by this time. She is from the midwest so Memphis still freaks her out.

After sometime with the car I deem it unfixable on site due to the radiator. It will still drive, but runs hot so we decide to take it as far as we can out of the hood and leave it until in the morning. I tell her to get anything she doesn't want stolen out of the car.

Now, it gets interesting. As she is unpacking the car a shadowy figure starts approaching us from the interstate. She is slender, wearing a leopard print skirt, stiletto heels, and a see thru top with lace bra. She is also carrying a large black hard plastic case slightly bigger than the average brief case.

She approaches and proceeds to tell me that her "date" had kicked her out on I-240 and could she use a phone. I told her none of us had cell phones and that I was sorry, but the gas station just down the street should have a phone. She then asks for a ride to the gas station. I tell her no due to the fact we are having vehicle issues. She does not comprehend. I assume this is from the drugs that were making her eyes dart around like she was trying to watch two flies fight and the large amount of liquor she must have consumed to smell like a vodka factory.

This continues for several minutes. Finally, having had enough I told her in a firm voice that I felt she needed to leave before she caused any more problems. She then starts to cuss me. I step back and basically bark out an order for her to walk away. She takes two steps towards me, raises her suitcase thing and swings. I jump back, hand goes to gun (didn't draw or even present) and I tell her if she doesn't walk away I'm going to go get the cops. She then walks away cussing me out and calling me names.

I wait a few minutes to make sure she's gone, then we leave and go park the car. I contemplate calling the cops and making a statement, but decide against it as it is 1 in the morning, I'm tired, she was wasted and because of the line of work I'm in I wasn't too worried about the cops in this jurisdiction as most of them know me anyway. So I let it be and I went home and went to bed.

Now, the reason I never posted this before was I thought about quite a few things after the fact and didn't feel like being told what I already knew on here. That being if I had shot her I'd probably be in jail. I realized that as soon as I touched my gun through my shirt. I'm 6'4 175 pounds, work security, and am ex-military. She was about 105 pounds, 5'4, and swinging a little case.

It's funny now, but at the time it freaked me out a bit on a few levels. Something about a crazy, Samsonite case swining, screaming hooker that unnerves you.

:rock:

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