So there I was...

[Guest coldblackwind]

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 away 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 reading for anything.

I drove my Bug Out Truck to the 7-11 for some beer, cause you never know. It is a performance styled SubaruBRAT 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 look like I meant to do that. The storeowner 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 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 custom trusty 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 telephone pole, but I landed on right side anyway. So I fired one shot towards the woman’s SUV to pin them down as I recovered my wind.

And 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, 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 BRATtactical 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 tase me. At which point I tactically soiled myself while in convulsions. My custom 1911 then fell window but I still had my Centennial .38. I knew 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, I still had my bayonet after all, 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 zigzag for a ditch, unfortunately the bayonet sticking out of my ass slowed me down, I knew it would have to be hand to had now. I knew the cop couldn't take me when I saw here 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 Maglite. As I lay thrashing on the ground I took the heel of my Bates enforcer boot and kicked at the cops ankle, I knew that from my classified experiences in Tajikistan that once breaking the ankle, the cop would fall down and I could "stun kick" him in the head, knocking him out but now 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.

[VolunteerGuns]

No Comment Warranted!

[TripleDigitRide]

That Voldemort is one badass dude.

[tyguy]

"creased my wiener"

[Mike.357]

I guess I am a wet blanket. Did not like it.

We have enough problems without these things being out there and representative of HCP holders.

I get the humor, you get the humor, but anti gun people and people who know nothing of guns, good or bad, believe this kind of stuff.

[Guest SUNTZU]

coldblackwind IS the orangeninja!

[Guest Caveman]

my face hurts now.

[rentalguy1]

I guess I am a wet blanket. Did not like it.

We have enough problems without these things being out there and representative of HCP holders.

I get the humor, you get the humor, but anti gun people and people who know nothing of guns, good or bad, believe this kind of stuff.

That isn't a HCP holder. That is a dude that is ate up with the dumb a$$.

[mikegideon]

Funny stuff. Hope the crease heals

[hipower]

That Voldemort is one badass dude.

Does kinda sound like him.

[Shug]

"unfortunately the bayonet sticking out of my ass slowed me down"

Very entertaining

[Guest Swamprunner]

...reminds me of an old Sam Spade novel I read once. Only better.

[Chief07]

Comedy Club material.I'm still laughing. ;-)

[Guest mustangdave]

This was almost believeable...if you'd just left out the part about being in SEAL Team 6...but then seriously...good funny stuff, and oh yeh..."CONTACT!!!!"

[VolunteerGuns]

[Mike.357]

you ever wonder who that poor kid is and if he knows about that picture?

[BrasilNuts]

you ever wonder who that poor kid is and if he knows about that picture?

I have wondered this myself... I would really like to hear the rest of the story on this pic.

[Luckyforward]

I am a licensed mental health therapist, and once had a client that was much like this young man. Large, out of shape, and rejected by the military, he resorted to playing "military" and "police" games to support his ego and deal with his depression. Poor kid . . . he never made much progress but "lost himself" in his "games."

[Guest coldblackwind]

you ever wonder who that poor kid is and if he knows about that picture?

Man, that's me, I don't know what you're talking about. That's all body armor, and sheer muscle from the Tajikistan training.

[Guest mustangdave]

I've been coming back to this thread...all weekend...just for the LAUGH...then I realized something...I had gear like that when I was a kid (back in the 60's when toy guns were COOL)...the helmet...the rifle..the comm set...but not the cool "mall ninja" eye protection...it was called "monkey commando" gear by IDEAL...I even had a bazooka too

[LagerHead]

I've been coming back to this thread...all weekend...just for the LAUGH...then I realized something...I had gear like that when I was a kid (back in the 60's when toy guns were COOL)...the helmet...the rifle..the comm set...but not the cool "mall ninja" eye protection...it was called "monkey commando" gear by IDEAL...I even had a bazooka too

Mystery solved?

[Guest TurboniumOxide]

"I charged her and I threw my groin into her knee."

Freakin' LOL

[molonlabetn]

Lol... I remember reading stories like these on thehighroad years ago till the tears flowed. Reminds me of when I got bored one day and posted this on packing.org back in '07 for s***s & giggles:

I just wanted to introduce myself and tell you about my exciting day

First of all, Glocks are the most proven tactical handguns in the world, I trust my life to them every day. I carry 2 Glock 37s, in a double shoulder-holster, a Glock 38 in a SOB holster, and a Glock 39 on my left ankle. I load all of my Glocks with premium Fang-face .45 GAP anti-terrorist ammunition made by Extreme-Shock. And because having the right tool for the right job is important, I also carry a 16in. collapsible BlackHawk BTS Baton, a FoxLabs Magnum 1lb Gun-Handle OC-spray, a Surefire E2D, two pairs of Smith&Wesson hand-cuffs, a Taser M18L, and a full-size Smith&Wesson SWAT folding knife. You see, a highly-trained tactically-minded operator such as myself must always be properly equipped to look after the sheeple, and defend them with my tactical prowess. Shoot first and ask questions later, that's my motto!

The dog-tags that I bought on the internet from my tactical gear supplier, say “Special Forces”, so that anyone who sees them will know how highly trained I am. I like how they clink against my CCW badge and inner trauma-plate (which I have tactically taped in place for double protection from sniper bullets), under my shirt and level IIIb body-armor.

All CCWers should follow my example of tactical preparedness.

Every day I try to reach out into the community, so that the entire city can bask in the safety and security my CCW badge provides. Ever since I received my permit last week, I have been a criminal’s worst nightmare in my city.

My watchful eyes are always scanning my neighborhood, which I refer to as my N-Zee, even when I am home in my trailer. With tactical precision I peek out of random windows of my modular, tactically relocate-able home, parting the mini-blinds imperceptibly… The motion-sensitive lights and fake cameras all over the exterior will disorient and overwhelm anyone who tries to sneak into my sector of the N-Zee. My neighbors in the trailer-park feel a lot safer knowing that there is a person with a CCW badge nearby who can respond to dangerous situations with lightning speed.

I spend a lot of time at the local Burger King, because that is where most of the criminals and questionable individuals in this area go to eat. My presence helps keep order, and makes the Sheeple feel safer because I am there to protect them.

From halfway across the room I spotted him as I was taking the first bite out of my Triple-Whopper, the most creepiest person that I had ever seen! He was trying to appear so innocent in that lavender pullover, holding his specially trained attack-Pekingese in the crook of his arm; the dog was wearing a baby-blue dog-sweater. I knew that I had to save these sheeple who were oblivious to the danger!

I slipped ninja-like from my chair, spilling my drink as a diversion, and took a tactical crouching-position behind the trash. With precise timing I held up my CCW badge, drew my Glock 37 and squealed at the top of my lungs: “FREEZE!”. He shrunk backwards in fear, knowing that I had spotted the bulge underneath his pullover, a tell-tale sign that he was carrying a concealed weapon WITHOUT A BADGE!!! In desperation he looked around wildly, seeking an escape as I tactically weaved towards him, maintaining my cover behind the clear-plastic display which holds the kiddie toys.

Finally, using the advanced techniques learned watching the 62 minute video: “ASP TACTICAL BATON TRAINING”, which is one of many that I get specially through my tactical police gear supplier on the internet, I snapped my 16in. collapsible BlackHawk BTS Baton extended on the third attempt, just in time to deliver a mildly-irritating blow to the light fixture behind the perp. That is what I meant to do, now he is just where I want him! Dis-oriented, he crouches down and pleads: “Don’t hurt Foo-Foo!”, while the panicking attack-Pekingese barks shrill-ly. I force the suspect face-first to the floor and hand-cuff him with my shiny Smith&Wesson handcuffs. All of a sudden there is pain in my right ankle; I swing around, the pain bringing tears to my eyes… The red-sweater-doper-dog has buried it’s ¼” fangs into my Achilles tendon, paralyzing me! Only my training saves me as I sweep the safety off of my FoxLabs Magnum 1lb Gun-Handle OC-spray and hold down the trigger, instantly fogging the entire area with small droplets of liquid fire. It has the desired effect, blasting the deceptively small attack-dog off of my leg and dis-infecting my bite-wound with such intensely painful liquid that any normal person could not have withstood it. The situation was then under control, and the Burger King fully evacuated (along with my bladder, bowels and stomach)… I proceeded to search the suspect for evidence, but I cannot see anything through the fog of OC-spray, so I leave that chore for the responding PD. When finally my backup arrives, the local boys-in-blue picked me up off of the floor and guide me to the ambulance for a quick field-dressing on my ankle, everyone was laughing and admiring how deftly I handled the situation.

Later on, during my daily ‘perimeter surveillance’ mission of the N-Zee, on my mo-ped, I noticed a drug deal going down at the bus-stop. Most regular folks, or ‘sheeple’ (as CCWers, Police, and Security Specialists tend to call ‘civilians’ without CCW badges), would never have noticed the subtle exchange which my trained senses were drawn to like a magnet.

From 153yd away I could practically smell the drugs in the packets which they were carrying from door-to-door… It made me realize how hungry I was. I grabbed a Slim-Jim from my Blackhawk Tactical-vest pocket with one hand as I swung my machine around and gunned it with the other… It was time for the big take-down!

As I screeched to a halt, inches from them, I held up my CCW badge and challenged them: “Drop the contraband! I have a Concealed-Weapons-Permit!”. They were stunned, obviously having thought that their Girl-Scout uniforms would disguise them from ordinary civilians…

Out of nowhere a purse came flying and nearly took my head off! Luckily I was quick enough to drop down into the tactical-fetal-defensive position and let my mo-ped fall on top of me for protection. “Leave my girls alone!” the bitch screamed.

She had to have been an experienced criminal to have snuck up on me without my noticing! The drug-dealing girls must have been her prostitutes. As such, I had to deal with the old pimp-hag first, before I could have taken the small fish into custody.

The hours of in-depth discussion with my next-door neighbor, who was a karate-instructor, have honed my nin-jitsu fighting skills to near-perfection. My senses are razor-sharp, and the muscles in my warrior-like 98-lb frame tightened, ready to spring into action on a moment’s notice.

I deftly roll sideways and leap up onto my feet, ignoring the intense pain of the curb striking my skull due to rolling the wrong direction on purpose, to keep the girl-scout drug-dealers and their pimp guessing my next move. I Tasered the pimp with my M18L after skillfully engaging and pointing the tactical laser it is equipped with. I heard the sound of sirens in the distance, signaling to me that backup was on its way. The sound gives me strength as I chased down the young drug dealers and cuffed them, and finally secured the contraband that they were trying to escape with. I decided to keep one box, disguised as ‘Tag-a-longs’, as evidence for me to digest.

With the situation under control I trusted the cavalry to assess the situation when they arrived, I could not stick around for the applause and compliments for a job well-done: my pager was beeping, and that could only mean one thing!

I picked up my mo-ped, though scratched and dented from the last confrontation; I raced off to the local 7-11 where my room-mate worked. He was paging for my immediate assistance!

Upon entering the 7-11, my room-mate frantically directed me to the back of the store, where a commotion was taking place. Everyone was so relieved when I arrived, filling the stop-n-rob with the powerful aura of my confidence and prowess. Quickly, after skillfully unclogging the Slurpee machine for the thirsty throng, and dispensing myself some refreshment, I abandoned my under-cover persona as the on-call handy-man and dashed for the door to return to my duties at the N-Zee.

Along my way I had to stop at Blockbuster, to drop off the copy of “Judge Dredd” which I rent regularly every month. As I was waiting to turn left, daydreaming about whether to get a Steven Seagal or Chuck Norris action movie this time, suddenly a Krispy Kreme truck swerved wildly in my direction, and skidded to a stop within inches of my mo-ped! The man in the cab of the truck was waving his arms wildly, threateningly it seemed… And then I noticed! He was wearing a TURBAN!!! This vehicular assassin must be an Islamo-facist Terrorist, possibly armed with a truck-bomb!

I had to stop him. A look of shock spread over the goat-F*&%er’s face as I drew both of my Glock 37s and took up a tactical cover position behind my mo-ped. “I have you surrounded!” as I pulled my CCW Badge out of my shirt “Step down out of your attack-vehicle with your hands up, or I will shoot! I have a CCW permit!” His turbaned head ducked out of sight behind the dashboard, and I began firing… Shooting the tires, the windshield, and aiming for the gas-tank hoping to explode the Krispy-Kreme truck in a ball of fire. He must have armor-plated his gas tank?!

When I ran out of ammo in my Glock 37s, the Muslim-terrorist peeked out again. “I am no terr’rest, do no shoot!” A likely story indeed, but I could not be fooled so easily. Dropping my empty Glock 37s, I drew my Glock 38 from its SOB holster (I call it my New-York reload) and advanced towards the cab of the suicide-truck-bomb disguised as a Krispy-Kreme truck, ordering the cowering rag-head: “lay flat on the ground!!!”

Just then, a dozen squad cars roared up, surrounding us with the sirens screaming. The Terrorist was now crying, and waving at the cops, apparently trying to lure them closer “Help Me!” he yelled.

I had to prevent the terrorist from detonating his bomb!

Lunging forward, with my Glock 38 in hand, I dove to tackle the Islamic-militant. He darted out of my grasp, causing me to trip over the handle-bars of my own mo-ped. As I fell, I heard a single gun-shot and felt white-hot pain in my left foot. The terrorist must have tried to kill me! Thankfully, the officers safely took the terrorist into custody by the time I struggled back up to my feet. A paramedic examined my foot and prepared me for transport to the hospital while a detective got my story, and finally told me: “We’ll get you some help, son”. The paramedic told me that I would live, but they needed to check me out at the hospital.

I have a lot of respect for police officers, but I found out during the investigation that they can’t count… No matter how many times I told the detectives that I fired 22 shots (10+1 in each Glock 37), they always wrote down “23”. They said that they would inform me of the charges as soon as I was released from the hospital. I can’t wait! I hope that Islamo-Terrorist gets the book thrown at him!

What are your thoughts?

I'll let you know what happens later, since I just got released from the hospital. I'd like to see what the experienced CCWers here have to say about what I've gone through, and what to expect?

[Guest mustangdave]

The above story...MUST be true...you just can't make this stuff up. I think there's a law against it:taser:

[frontier737]

"At which point I tactically soiled myself while in convulsions" That will show 'em!