So, I’m in my living room. I noticed a guy outside outfitted in modern U.S. military fatigue. Kind of crouched, skulking past my window. I’d say… between 43 and 57 years of age. Determined eyes scanning constantly. With a double-barreled shotgun pointed toward the ground. Wearing a helmet.
I went out my side-door to address him. Barefoot, clad in a black wife-beater, and knickers concealed by my blue-patterned boxers.
“Sir. Sir?” My hands were clasped behind my back as to not show any signs of being a threat. “Sir, is everything okay?”
He straightens slightly, but not all the way up. He informed me that he was in the military for a long time, and is looking out for the neighborhood.
I said, “I trust you are not loaded [with ammunition]. I trust that in a pinch you can reload fast.”
Outside my real-life window, I can see a playground. Kids play there all the time. Well. Did, prior to the pandemic. Loved how excited my small child would be to play there.
Think we can agree that guns and kids don’t mix.
Whatever the symbology, have fun. Someone protecting me? Someone protecting the kids? Recalling my days playing DOOM2? Faith in the U.S. Military ethos? My Grandfather was a cook in the Navy in the Pacific Theatre of WWII, after all.
Key to point out that his firearm was pointed down. That’s how you’re supposed to do it. Not pointing up, like in so many cop dramas.
Oh, and how I know this was a dream.
I don’t have a side-door.
PS: I have refused to own a firearm. Still want to go to a firing range, just to get the experience, as I’m a flaming liberal like that. I do have a bat’leth. No, no, not a six foot bat’leth. A six inch bat’leth. GET YOUR MIND OUT OF THE GUTTER. It is literally designed to be a letter openner. Bet I’d confuse the frak out of an intruder if I wielded it.
(Never forget the Battle of the Bridge.)
Last updated March 13, 2021