A Nurse with a Gun
Labels: Smith and Wesson
posted by Xavier at 7:32 AM
Xavier is a Registered Nurse who specialized in complex wound care. He has practiced for over fourteen years in his community. He often provided nursing service in areas where law enforcement refused to enter without back-up. Xavier now works in surgery. Xavier has been an avid shooter for over 30 years. He strongly supports the 2nd Amendment, opposes gun control of any sort, and carries a weapon 24 hours a day. Xavier is known on various internet gun forums as XavierBreath. He is married with three children, and is moderated by an apathetic one eyed cat, a goofy Golden Retriever, and a stalwart German Shepherd Dog. One day, he hopes to be deserving of them all.
Domari Nolo
Xavier can still be emailed at
treatmewithbenignneglect@gmail.com
He might read your email.
He might delete it on sight.
He might publish it and comment on it.
The Four Rules
1. All firearms are always loaded
2. Never let the muzzle of a firearm point at anything you are not willing to destroy
3. Keep your finger off the trigger until you are ready to shoot
4. Be sure of your target and what lies beyond it
The Five Rules of Concealed Carry
1. Your concealed handgun is for protection of life only.
2. Know exactly when you can use your gun.
3. If you can run away -- RUN!
4. Display your gun, be prepared to go to jail.
5. Don't let your emotions get the best of you.
© 2009 Xavier Thoughts
All Rights Reserved
ΜΟΛΩΝ ΛΑΒΕ
1 Comments:
Back in the 60s, my Grandpa worked as a night watchman. He always carried three things as he made his rounds on an old Harley Servicar. A .38 revolver in a holster on his hip, a leather covered watchclock slung across his shoulder, and a thermos of milk under the seat.
My dad would take me out to visit him at night after my guitar lessons and after a while I could ride the Harley all by myself, log in with the clock and key at all the checkpoints and feed the momma cat and her never ending brood of kittens that lived in one of the warehouses while my Grandpa and Dad listened to the Giants and smoked Tareytons back in the office.
The gun stayed with "the men" where it held a powerful fascination for me. It was a beautiful 6" Smith and Wesson M&P with checkered walnut grips. I always asked Grandpa to let me hold the gun but my dad would say "I don't think that's a good idea tonight".
Twelve years of age must be some kind of milestone for boys. In California, you can get a hunting license at age twelve and that's how old I was when my dad finally nodded his approval when I pestered them about the revolver .
Pop made a big show of pulling the weapon out of it's holster, swinging the cylinder open and dumping the six shells out into his palm, then into a small jar in the drawer of the desk. He spun the cylinder, double checking there were absolutely no rounds in the gun, then snicked the cylinder shut and presented me the revolver on top of his huge open palm.
I grabbed the gun and pointed it out the window and drew a bead on the little Coppertone girl up on a billboard across the street, thumbed the hammer back and pulled the trigger. Click! I lowered my aim and...click, took out her little dog too. "That's enough deadeye" my dad said. I handed the gun back to Grandpa and watched him reload and slip it back into his holster. I asked him why he needed the gun, why would anybody try to steal the cotton bales stored in the warehouses?
"I'm not here to keep people from stealing, I'm here to keep the bums from moving in like Miss Kitty and her kittens."
"Did you ever have to use it?"
"Just once. "
"What happened?"
"I was coming home from work one morning and stopped at The De Marquis over on Golden State for a pack of cigarettes. Now can you believe there were four or five punks in there drinking beer and shooting pool at six in the morning?
My dad laughed a little and said "Oh I believe you Pop."
"I could hear them cracking jokes about my outfit, calling me Barney, you know, that guy on the Andy Griffith Show?"
"Yeah, Barney Fife"
"Well son, one of those boys came over with his pool cue and asked me if they let me have any real bullets for this gun."
"Were you scared Grandpa?"
"No I was just real tired, so I stuck this gun right in that boy's belly. I cocked the hammer back and I told him he was gonna find out all he ever wanted to know about bullets if he didn't drop that pool cue."
"Then what happened?"
"Everybody got real polite in there Reno. That boy dropped his stick and apologized. They all did, and the bartender let me have my smokes for free. Everybody was just as nice as could be, but I never go anywhere near that place anymore."
My grandpa was a rough old Missouri boy, nobody in their right mind would ever get him confused with Barney. He looked at me real serious then and said, "We never go looking for trouble Reno, but we never take any shit off anybody. Isn't that right Sonny?" My dad tousled my hair and said "No Pop, we sure don't.
I loved the way they said "we".
Over the years I've owned several Model 10s or 13s. Regretdully all were sold or traded. I do have my Granfather's old M&P though it's not going anywhere.
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