I fell out of bed this morning to the sound of gunfire. I’d like to think that it was my military training that made me roll to the lowest point in the room… but it was probably the alchohol left in my system from last night.

I reached for my nightstand drawer where I keep my gun. The windows had shattered, and there were still bullets flying, but I knew I needed my gun and some shoes if I was going to make it out of this alive. Getting the gun was the easy part.

My shoes were in the closet. Unfortunately, I had to crawl over the broken glass to get to them. The bullets had stopped, and I heard the men who threw them into my apartment reloading and moving around towards the front door. I only had a couple minutes.

I jumped up, ran to the closet, grabbed a pair of slip-on loafers, my shotgun from the top shelf, and my bulletproof vest. I then made my way towards the door to greet my visitors.

Yes, I’m a bad cop, but you need some of those to make up for all the good ones that don’t get anything done.