Work Blogging (Or, I Met 50 Cent's "Dee Dee Dee" Cousin Tonight)
I was out on the property doing a maintainence check of the electronic lock on one of the doors on the second floor, and as I was walking along the balconey I noticed a couple of people in the parking lot getting out of their car. No big deal, couple of wanna-be thuggie-types that don't know how to pull their pants up.
I do a quick check of the lock and find out it's FUBAR and needs to be replaced. As I'm turning to go back to the office, I hear something clatter on the parking lot, and one of the thugs says, "Oh shit, I dropped my gun."
RED FUCKING ALERT!!! RAISE SHIELDS!!! ARM WEAPONS!!!! BATTLE STATIONS!!!
I move to the rail and draw my P90 all in one movement, and that's the first clue the thugs have that they aren't alone in the parking lot. Their second clue is that the other person is armed and has the drop on them. I quickly see hands in the air. (Good move on their part. Probably the first smart thing they've done in a while.)
I'm holding my weapon at low-ready, and the one that dropped his gun says,"OH SHIT!! Dude, it's just a cap gun!!" and points to it and indicates he want's to prove it. I flip the safety off and raise it just a little and nod for him to CAREFULLY AND SLOWLY pick it up and show it to me.
He complies and as he stands up, and I see that's it's a FUCKING TEN YEAR OLD'S COWBOY GUN!!! WHAT THE FUCK?!?! What the hell is a 20+ year old doing with a cap pistol??? He points it away toward the other side of the street and clicks it a few times to show me it's only a toy, so I lower my REAL GROWNUP'S GUN, and put it back on SAFE and put it away.
I turn and start walking back toward the office, casting cautious glances over my shoulder and seeing them scurry into their room as fast as they can to clean the shit outta their sagging pants. I guess if he'd turn off MTV once in a while maybe he'd catch a news story about how people get shot and killed for doing stupid shit like that at three o'clock in the morning. He's lucky I'm not prone to panic and that I know how much paperwork is involved in a shooting, and I HATE paperwork...
They'll probably complain to Management in the morning, something about some cracker asshole pulling a gun on them or some shit like that... Big Fucking Deal. Since the Manager is my Ol' Lady, I wonder who she'll believe, me or "Ain't Got No Cents"???