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There's nothing like being mistaken for a burglar in your own house.

This morning the wife stayed in bed when I left for work, only I didn't leave. I forgot something upstairs in my office so I went back inside. I heard some rustling around our bedroom so I shouted "It's just me," to which I received no response. Again I shouted "It's me!" -Still no response, and by then I had heard a drawer close and some hard footsteps coming in my direction. The fan in our bedroom was probably muffling my voice. By now I was a bit on edge about the P220 coming my way so from down deep in my gut, I bellowed out "It's me, put that gun away!" in my loudest command voice. Finally I got a verbal confirmation that the wife was standing down.

-Almost missed seeing my T3 kit that should arrive any day.
 

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I feel better knowing that I'm not the only one this has happened
to.

Several years back, when I was still reenacting, I came home
a day early (my buddy got sick).

After dropping him off, I went home, and it was either VERY late
Saturday night, or very EARLY Sunday morning. I figured Jenny
was asleep, so I would enter the house quietly and not wake her
up.

Unbeknowest to me, I did in fact wake her up. She called out my
name, but I didn't hear her. When I didn't answer, she went to her
dresser and armed herself.

I was halfway up the stairs when she called out and I heard her,
finally.

After dressing me down verbally, I apologised and went into the
bedroom. She was in bed with the blankets pulled up. When I
turned around after shutting the door, she dramatically threw back
one corner of the comforter, with this in her hand:




She said to me very quietly, "The next time you come home in the
middle of the night, ANSWER me when I call your name."

Knowing that I had loaded that piece with Hyda-Shok's, my answer
was a simple, "Yes, Ma'am."
 

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My Grandparents were living in a mining shack up in the hills of Idaho in some small town, my mother was just a wee baby. Grandpa had an old single action .44 and grandma was a crack shot and always had it near her when grandpa was gone at night. Grandpa had gone into town to get his snoot full, he arrived home late that night and grandma heard him come in the front door, the shack only had two rooms...she said "Archie is that you?" No Answer....she says again "Archie is that you?" No Answer, she gets outa bed and shoves the dresser against the door, goes back to bed, lights the kerosine lamp, gets my mother across her lap, grabs the .44, pulls back the hammer and yells as loud as she could "Goddamnit Archie, Is That You!" The door opens and thumps against the dresser, and theres a shove, and another shove...Grandma brings the .44 up to about where she thought a guy's head would be and set her finger on the trigger, the door thumps against the dresser one last time and Grandma said "Archie stuck his head around the door and had that silly drunk on his ass grin, but the minute he saw that pistol it went slack as a limp dick."
I asked Grandpa what he thought about the incident and he told me that all he could remember was how goddamned big the hole on the end of that pistol looked as it was pointed right between his eyes.
 
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