Packin' Heat

Ya know, I almost never carry concealed. When most of my shopping trips have a stop inside the Air Force Base or the rare social appearance drags me to a brew pub, I gotta leave the shootin' iron behind. On trips to Phoenix, I just wear my match gun in the open; the only places it gets seen are gas stations. Since I left today's match feeling rather well (and not pukey from dehydration and nerves... I'd pounded a bottle of water on the drive back), I decided to treat myself to Subway on the way home. I pulled in right next to a police car in the parking lot. The officer was chowing down in the back of the restaurant. I don't imagine anybody in line behind me gestured frantically to the officer or that he'd hurried through his meal, but he followed me out at a respectful distance. I wonder if he ran my licence plate number.

I'd like to think it was all just coincidence.