SmallCaliberCentral

HAHAHA!!! Thats awesome..."I pulled up to the 7-11 store and noticed a nefarious looking Girl Scout eyeballing me from the back of her mothers' SUV. A likely cover."

I'm still laughing! THAT was well written, obviously from a man who really knows his tactacal training! He obviously just read the "How to Survive a Gunfight" here on the forum.

rpknaz wrote:And before the mother knew what was happening, I charged her and I threw my groin into her knee.

That is my favorite part.

That's GREAT!

I really want to print it out and take it to work with me tomorrow! The guy's at work would get a kick out of that considering we work with a guy who sounds JUST LIKE THAT!

Those mall ninjas are tough cookies, beware the mall ninja!

roknaz-- I hope you don't mind but I stole your story & posted it on another website. Here's the reply I got from one of those members.

Just got out of lockup I was ready for it tho being trained in CIA tactic's I only gave them my rank and serial number. When I got to the court room the woman and little girl was there. I could tell by the way the judge was looking at me and them he had been brain washed and was now on there side.

I done a dive for the Judge but being trained for combat I knew a frontal approach would not be the right approach. So I pretended to stumble on the chair in front of me and jumped face first into the bench. I through off my true intentions by laying there long enough for two cops to jump onto my back. I did this to protect my ribs. I had let a fellow inmate break my ribs while in lockup so I could go to the hospital to gain more info on the layout of the jail.

While laying there I let one of the officers pull my arm back and dislocate it so I could be more flexible for later tactical moves.

Laying there most men would have sucom to the pain. I was trained to feel no pain after spending time in a Thailand cat house. The pain I had to overcome after each visit there for weeks on end made a few ribs and a dislocated arm seems like nothing. Once I started hitting my face into the floor I could feel them slowing easing up.

I took this opportunity to scream “bomb” he’s got a bomb. Once this happened the court room filled with screams. Knowing the police would react to help save the public citizens it would be my perfect escape. This is one of the differences in my training and the police training. In my training we did not worry about collateral damage.
Once they eased up It was easy for me to getup. My belly helps hold me up off the floor and having jumped out of helicopters on many occasions during my training it has made my legs tactically shorter. So the distance I had to get up was much closer than the average untrained man.

Once I got to my feet I could tell that while I was on the floor the judge and the girl scout must have gotten to the crowd for now they were all after me. Once again I was pepper sprayed but I seen it coming so I closed my mouth purposely took the brunt of it in the eyes. Knowing the last thing I needed was to be distracted by hot peppers in my mouth. No need to feel hunger at a time like this. I then made a dash for the side door once through the door I was in a small room with only a window.

I knew then I had them right where I wanted them. I leaned to look out the window which had bars on it. Then the door busted open as a mob pushed against me. I was being push through the bars and my dislocated shoulder easily let me slide through. Unfortunately for them I was stopped at the mid section and could not go any farther. Yep they were horrified when they realized I was not going through the window. Their eyes where squinted and they were chanting something. I don’t know what they were chanting because in my training we were taught to shut out all distractions. They were packed in that room so tight and had nowhere to go.
I knew it was time for my next move….

Glen wrote:roknaz-- I hope you don't mind but I stole your story & posted it on another website. Here's the reply I got from one of those members.

Glen - No problem, I did the same for you guys. I think both stories are great. Come to think of it, these stories reminds me of the security guard at my taco bell.

When I was in High School, the local McDonalds had one of those types, we called him "Shoot-to-kill Bill". One of my classmates worked there, and she, and some others, spiked his Coke one night with vodka, no more Bill harassing the HS kids. Made the place a lot more tolerable.

Glenn: Almost the same story for me when I was in high school. The local burger joint hired a rent-a-cop because of all us "evil cruisers" in our hot Chevy's and Ford street racers, and he bore all the same traits as our hero above. We called him "Barney" for Barney Fife in the Andy Griffith Show, the one bullet in his shirt pocket guy. Once this clown found out we called him that, the dirty looks never stopped, and all the while we just laughed at him. Poor guy, he quit after one summer....wonder what ever happened to him? Maybe he ended up in the story posted at the top of this thread?

I was driving my Seafoam Green '60 Chevy Pickup, short bed Fleetside, with oak bed, old Bill didn't like my truck, I guess. He had personality issues of some sort It couldn't be the truck, it had 3 on the tree, 235CID 6cylinder, it had a good muffler, and those chrome babymoon hubcaps that looked pretty good, all things considered. It wasn't noisy, and I was a good kid who didn't cause trouble. Heck, that old truck couldn't get out of it's own way, let alone go rumpety-rumpety It musta just been Bill...........

Dang, that brings back memories! We had a lot of fun in high school. I almost miss that old truck, too. It had character, something my new truck just doesn't seem to have, at least, not yet. Probably because everything on/in it, works. That old truck was on it's last legs.

Well, I most likely got all I deserved from 'ole Barney. My ride was my cherry '67 Malibu SS with a balanced/blueprinted 327, close ratio Muncie 4-speed with Hurst shifter, 4:56 posi, Hooker fenderwell exit headers, Isky solid-lifter radical cam, 12:1 pistons, Edelbrock tunnel ram w/two Holly's, yadda, yadda..... it would literally lift the front wheels off the ground when I punched it, turned in the 12's in the quarter, and so with me being young, dumb and fulla......well, you get the idea. So when me and my like-minded friends would uncap our headers to cruise "the strip", Barney just about lost it every time we arrived at Quarter Pounder.

Putting myself in his shoes now, I'd have been hard pressed NOT to dig into my shirt pocket and chamber that ONE .38 round Andy had given me!