have a friend who told me the following story:
Back in 1976 he was an 18-year-old college student living in a tumbledown
crackerbox of an apartment across the street from the local bars. One
night, about 1:30,
there came a loud pounding at his front door accompanied by the occasional bellow
of the word "ESMERELDA!".
Being a skinny art major far from home he trepidatiously crept to the door asked
who it was.
"ESMERELDA!" the voice shouted again.
"What do you want?", asked my friend.
"SANCTUARY!", cried the voice.
My friend crept forward and moved aside a cheap calendar used to cover the small,
diamond-shaped window on the door. Pressed against the cracked plexiglas was
the face of a very large and very drunk man. The indication of life within the
apartment unfortunately caused the drunk to redouble his efforts at gaining entry
as the door began to bulge ominously inward.
At this point my friend, not having a phone and no back door, did the only thing
he could think of. He went to the closet and got the rifle his grandfather had
left him along with the only bullet that came with it. After loading the rifle,
which was known to have a hair trigger, he returned to the front door, lifted
the calendar and placed the muzzle of the gun right between the drunk's eyes.
"Look! I have a gun, so you better leave!" said my friend.
After a couple of seconds the drunk seem to comprehend his suddenly perilous
situation, abruptly pulling away from the door and staggering off the porch.
After a few minutes my friend looked outside but saw no trace of the drunk. He
then ran across the street to a bar where his friend worked as a bartender and
told him the story. The bartender recognized his description of the drunk so
they both went out looking for him.
Literally moments later they found him staggering down the steet and the ensuing
confrontation proved him to be much less dangerous than anyone thought. He was
simply drunk and in the midst of an acid flashback, not even sure what year it
was, and apologized profusely for causing any trouble.
"And that's why it's important to always have a gun," my
friend told me.
"But you almost killed someone just
because he was having a bad day," I reminded him.
"Oh.... yeah," said my friend.