I don't really have a story either. Although Daniel's story reminded me of something that happened just the other day. I had just brought home that .22 rifle my grandpa gave me, and got it out of my trunk to take it inside. So here I am walking through my parking lot with a bare rifle in my hand and these two shady dudes are standing by one of my neighbor's doors, leaning against the rail smoking. He looks at me and yells to me, "Hey man, do you know an Art around here?" Usually I'm a pretty talkative guy, but I just looked at him and said "Nope." I thought it was funny that I was open carrying a rifle at the time, but I guess I must not have looked very threatening with it.


Also, the other night I thought I heard an unusual noise shortly after I went to bed. I had forgotten that I had started my washer a few minutes before. I got my gun out of the safe, and was walking down the hall toward my daughter's room, with the gun pointed at the floor. The washer was right between cycles (you know when it completely stops and sits for a minute?) and right as I walked next to it, it kicked on and scared the crap out of me. I immediately thought how I was glad I was holding the gun with my finger down the slide like I was supposed to be, or else I might have shot my own foot off!