1:30AM, Shots Fired

An office next door to the place I work came under gunfire last wednesday. I didn’t hear it, though. I was engaged in hearty conversation with the only active security guard over a cup of coffee. Rodger is in his mid 60s…the quintessential old southern guy. Nice fella. Millitary Veteran. Staunch republican. One of my better friends.

"I tell you what…I ever catch me one of them towel jockies who been beheading those people, I’d take em out in the shed and find me the rustiest…dullest…crummmiest hack saw I can find…and cut em real slow like…back and forth.. and when I get down to the vertebre I’m just gonna nick it…chip away at it..bit by bit."

Later that night I had another conversation with his relief security guard. Never met him before.

"Used to be in the (National) Guard. Blew my knee out in boot camp… really pissed me off. I cant stand it…I need to get over there and grease some of them fuckers. If they wont let me back into the service, I’m going to be training to be on the police force. I can still grease some of them fuckers…and it’ll be legal."

4 more beers.