Glocks and Cops

Omg. Omg. Omg. My heart just exploded from my chest.

Its 3am and I'm sitting on my futon writing an email to someone when some jackass comes and BANGS on the apartment door. No doubt one of the pismire meat head jocks that always get too drunk to find their way back to their women around here.

I set my laptop down and walk over to the peephole expecting to see a swaying moron holding his penis and a can of beer. Instead I see a lot of pink.

Okaaayyy? So some dipshyte holding up a pamphlet for a party that I should be at?

Meh, I figured I would let the drunken moron realize he had the wrong house and he would go on his merry way.

No such luck. The idiot BANGS on the door again. This pisses me off greatly. Not only is it 3am, but my sister is asleep and I'm having my writing zone interrupted by some pothead who doesn’t know how to count apartment numbers.

That and the banging sounded very aggressive. And since aggressive behavior tends to make me even more aggressive than I already am... I went for my Glock.

I grabbed my baby, marched to the front door and checked the peep again. Still covered. Whatever, Id show this asshole that I wasn’t some little sorostitute and I didn’t appreciate being disturbed this early in the morning.

I flipped both the locks on the door with my left hand (My right still clasped around my Glock) and stood back enough that I could get a view of the upper landing and whatever cheap beer drinking dorkus might inhabit it. In order not to be violating my Right to carry arms I kept my gun out of site behind the door lest Beer Boy think I was brandishing it and piss himself all over my doorstep.

Well, the meat head turned out to be three guys.

All dressed in uniforms.

POLICE OFFICERS.

I stood there for the proverbial second that seemed like hours and assessed the situation. I was standing half naked in an open door way facing three cops. One of them had a Maglite the size of my thy held up over his head (my apartment was pitch black). I had a loaded (but not chambered) Glock hidden behind the door. I was frakked.

One officer acted like he was going to push the door farther open and step inside so my self preservation kicked in and I spout: “I have a gun!” Not in a menacing way, but in a tone that indicated complete and total disbelief.

The three officers glance at each other and then back at the girl in glasses and the United Way Staff shirt and the tall one says: “Well, just put it down on the floor and step back.”

No shyte, I thought. The Glock felt like it weighed 100LBS and was on fire. I bent down and set it on the orange entry carpet and stepped back into my kitchen. I wrapped my arms around myself to stop from shaking.

The three Officers came in and started looking around. The black one with his massive Maglite. The short, heavier one finds the lights and flicks them on. I stupidly thought that I should have done the dishes.

“May I ask what this is about?” I asked. Mom would be proud. Even during chaos I was polite.

“We got a call for a Domestic [Disturbance] for this address.”

I look around my apartment and see the game cube strewn across the floor from where I was playing Mario Sunshine and my laptop sitting beside it playing MC Chris’s “Geek” softly. I glance back up at the black cop. It registered in the back of my head somewhere that he looked really kind. He smiled.

“This is apt 34*?”

I nodded and looked around again. The heavier cop had picked my Glock up off the floor and popped the magazine out and cocked and locked the slide back and set it all on the kitchen table and was looking it over.

I took the time to be proud that I had hollow points in the mag and had cleaned my gun since the last time I shot it.

Tall Cop realizes that they might have the wrong address and radios in to confirm while Heavy Cop walks back further into the apartment.

Black Cop: “Anyone here with you.”

“Just my Baby Sister. You can go back and check on her, but you’ll scare the crap out of her.”

He chuckles.

Tall Cop comes back. I could hear the call he made over the radio through Heavy Cop’s radio at his waist. It was defiantly apartment 34.”* But they realize something isn’t right.

Tall Cop: “Well, she doesn’t look beat up.” They all laugh.

I spurt out that I took karate. Pointless. Hadn’t I just answered the door with a loaded weapon?

“Is there any other apartment 34’s* around here?” one of them asks.

I pondered for a min. I kind of felt like I was brainstorming with them and I liked it. “Across the way, maybe. I think they are all labeled the same save for the actual building number.”

They take one last sweep. Black Cop bends over and checks out my Glock.

“40?” he inquired. (Referring to the caliber.)

“Nah, 9 mill. Daddy got it for me for Christmas. We go shooting a lot.”

They all laugh and I want to bust out doughnuts and bad coffee and sit around shooting cop shyte. So, that Vic from last night was suspicious. What about the Perp? Total scumbag! Too bad we never fingered that UNSUB in the White Case.

Before I was done daydreaming they had nodded and smiled and closed the front door. I stood there for a beat and ran to see if Steph was ok.