Sautéed Smith? Glazed GLOCK?
A Simple Recipe For Cooked Pistol
Sunday nights in Fort Wayne, Ind., are generally pretty calm, so Joe Carlisle, relaxing at home, came suddenly and violently to General Quarters when he heard several gunshots of the rapid-fire variety and close! Joe jumped on the phone, 911’d the police, and gave ’em his best guess that someone was just outside his house, peppering it with small arms fire.
Joe was more than a little humbled when the responding cops found, instead of a siege-in-progress — a hot oven. And an even hotter pistol!
Carlisle had stashed a loaded semiauto pistol in his oven, forgot it was there, and then fired it up for a little late-night snack.
No one was injured, though the kitchen walls took several hits as the piece was spinnin’ and spittin’.
Household hint: No K-Frames in the Kenmore and no GLOCKs in the General Electric, no Makarovs in the Magic Chef.
Oops, Wrong Bank
Two dudes wearing ski masks and brandishing handguns busted into an Orange County, Calif., office and announced a bank robbery. To their chagrin, a female employee advised them that they had missed the bank by one structural unit, pointing to the bank next door.
Instead, she explained, they have stormed an accounting firm, where they crunch numbers, not cash. The undaunted suspects grabbed two female accountant hostages and walked them toward the bank.
The bank employees, however, have heard all the commotion and battened down the hatches, shutting out party-crashers. Following a brief reenactment of the “We’ll huff, and we’ll puff” scene from “The Three Little Pigs,” the two hostages broke away and fled. The suspects, now hostage-less, conspicuous, and lonely outside a locked bank, decided to take off themselves, leaping into a waiting white 1995 Lincoln, reported stolen from Los Angeles.
Time to burn rubber! But there’s a little problem — dang thing just won’t giddy up. All the transmission fluid had leaked out. Despite the fact this condition was probably covered under warranty, the suspects opt to abandon the classy Lincoln for a less luxurious but operable old blue sedan and under the guidance of a third cohort, finally speed away.
Scene IV opens the next day in a different part of the county where the same two dudes, this time wearing tan outfits and utility belts, introduced themselves to personnel of a credit union. One explained they were there to fix the phones. The other’s speech is muffled by a surgical face mask. You know, the kind often worn in the movies by fake utility repairmen committing robberies.
Employees began to doubt their phone company credentials; then, all doubt was removed when Tweedle-Dumb and Tweedle-Dumber pulled pistols and marched toward the vault. The suspects grabbed some cash, but their alternative shopping spree was cut short by the ominous presence of several sheriff’s deputies, all doing business in the credit union.
Semi-successful and fully frustrated, they fled on foot and leaped into a waiting car, with a scad of irritated deputies in hot pursuit.
“These guys were not very smart,” said Lt. Dan Martini. “There are tons of deputies there.” He further pointed out that the credit union is on one of the busiest corners in the community, a short jump away from City Hall.
Scene V is our favorite: Unbeknownst to the robbers, an electronic locating device was hidden in the credit union loot. It silently beeped away at a similar unit in the belly of an Anaheim Police Department helicopter.
The helo-cops quickly identified the source and locked in on an old brown Nissan on the Riverside Freeway. Over the course of the next several miles, every bored cop not otherwise occupied in the greater L.A. area cruised shark-like in that direction. When sufficient numbers of black-and-whites had fallen into a glorious procession, somebody finally gave the signal, and a vehicular version of “King Of The Mountain” occurred.
Epilogue: Cynthia Shipron, 27, was removed from behind the wheel. Robert Dwayne Scott, 27, tried but failed to hide in the compact car’s back seat. A rumpled and crumpled Curtis Guy Jackson, 26, was helped out of the trunk and into a black-and-white.
The tan outfits, guns and money were scooped up for evidence. Watch for this one on TV. Subtitled “Ooh, What A Week We Had,” the miniseries will likely bear our title: “Dumb And Dumber: A Stupid Crooks Double-Header.”
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Mark Moritz hung up his satirical spurs last issue to a collective sigh of relief from America’s gunwriters whom he had lampooned in “Friendly Fire” for two long, painful years. The 10 Ring is written by Commander Gilmore, a retired San Diego police officer who bases his humor, like Mark did, on actual occurrences. All the incidents described by the Commander are true.
