Defend Your Castle (or Carry a Big Stick)

“I was born, six-gun in my hand.” (Edit: from "Bad Company")

Actually, I was born with a veil, but that’s another story—and I do my best to be “good company”. This story involves guns, but it’s silly, not dark. I promise.

Where I grew up, guns were common. You didn’t see them, but you knew everyone’s parents had them. Owning a gun to defend your home & family was like owning a lawnmower to cut your grass—except the grass always grew and no one ever broke into our homes??? But, the dads were prepared (just in case). I did a post once about my dad’s SWAT maneuvers (it's one of my favorites). They were false alarms, but we were prepared. Well, he was prepared. My job was to draw the bad guys’ attention. Cue the SWAT music. ;P

This story is about the first time I thought someone was breaking into my very own house in the middle of the night. Having been raised to be prepared, I owned a gun and knew how to handle it safely (part of my upbringing). Yes, I was prepared.

One night I heard the sound of glass shattering and thought it was my basement door. Did I call the police? No! I was prepared. I grabbed my gun and went to investigate. I crept down the stairs to the main level and paused to listen. Nothing. So I opened the basement door and made my way to the bottom of the stairs. I was silent, like a ninja. Unfortunately the steps made a terrible racket (creak, creak, creak). Anyway, I stopped two steps from the bottom to once again listen for the sounds of an intruder. But I heard something else.

I heard a *PING* (like I had dropped something), followed by the sound of something rolling on the step beneath me. I didn’t have time to worry about it; I had to “sweep” the basement. Thankfully everything was fine—and the door intact. So I investigated the “ping”. I discovered a tiny piece of metal on the step. It was cylindrical and maybe a quarter of an inch long. It looked familiar, but I couldn’t place it. Then I recognized it.

It was the FIRING PIN from the gun. It broke off and fell out!! The one time I might have needed it, it didn't work. Without its firing pin, a gun is just an oddly shaped paper-weight. I felt like Barney Fife (with his one bullet stuck in his pocket).

I took that experience as a sign. I didn’t repair the gun. So now when I need to investigate a strange sound, I take the roller from our paper towel rack (see how sturdy it is--like a 20 inch shovel handle). The most excitement I’ve had with the roller involved the police. At 2am one night I heard a woman wailing her heart out down the street. I grabbed my trusty shillelagh and headed out to investigate. The police arrived in the woman’s yard at the same time I did. I was relieved at the timing, until the officer placed his hand near his gun and ordered me to “drop the weapon”. Geez!

Next time I hear a noise, I’m going to go back to sleep and trust Bandit to handle it.

PS – No I won’t. I’ll HAVE to investigate…I'm too curious. =)