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I heard more glass breaking in the back of the house. That puzzled me because Brian's windows were all super-strong hurricane glass and the windows in the sidelights to the doors were bullet-resistant.

I peered out a window and the dumb motherfuckers outside were throwing frozen ceramic flowerpots at the door. They now grabbed the big patio table. Two of them were carrying it to the door to use it as a battering ram on the door while the third guy with the pistol held the screen door open.

"Battering ram in the back. Three guys, one gun!" I hollered at Brian.

Whoomp! They were trying to batter the fucking door down.

"Front secure. One bad guy, maybe two. One gun."

Whoomp! Whoomp!

The door was shaking each time they bashed the table into it.

Brian was hollering to Nicole. "Nicole, tell the dispatcher they are trying to batter the back door down with a battering ram. Tell them to step it up. We need back-up here now! Tell them that."

I had retreated back from the door and was now kneeling beside a wall, in what was affectionately known in firearm training schools as "low Monica", aiming at the back door where the door would swing open. The wall would offer me some cover and my position down low would hopefully catch them off guard.

The beating, kicking and shouting continued. I was so adrenaline pumped it was hard to keep track of time, but I was thinking to myself, "Where the fuck are the police? Why are there no sirens?"

All I knew was that the moment that door came open, I was going to fire a 12ga. rifled slug at center mass of whatever dipshit was unlucky enough to be the point man followed up by a load of 00-buckshot then reassess for other targets and pump them each with a double load of double-ought as well. I knew I had at least six rounds in my shotgun and I was trying to remember if I had seven in it or not.

We heard shouting outside then a scream. Then a "POLICE! Drop the gun!" "GET DOWN!"

The shit-heads out back ran and there were more shouts for them to stop. I was expecting the "pop" of gunfire at any moment. Sirens started coming on nearby - lots of sirens. We could hear tires screeching and squealing around nearby corners and a bunch of commotion.
I heard Nicole's voice from near the top of the basement stairs. "911 says the police are here."

"Yeah, no shit!" I said.

Brian: "Stay downstairs! Tell them we're secure in the house at this time."

"We're secure in the house," Nicole told the dispatcher.

"She says to stay inside."

"No shit," I said. Brian was watching the front of the house and I had the back. A wall and about 15 feet separated us.

"Thanks for telling me to bring the shotgun but I'd rather have a rifle," I said to Brian who was around the corner.

"Eh, I think it's about over. We're going to be okay. Just keep your guard up."

Brian's voice was calm and reassuring. I think Nicole gathered some strength from his cool level-headedness and control of the situation as well.

We heard a dog barking then snarling. Somebody was screaming like a girl out back.

I went back to the kitchen, still in low-ready and looked cautiously out the window. The action was off to the left, so I went to the window in the next room. I saw a police canine German Shepherd biting some thug on his ass, through his boxers and shaking like mad.

"Oh, yeah. Rover took a bite out of crime," I hollered, laughing. "Ouch, that's gotta hurt!"

There was a dogpile as another one of the pot-throwers was resisting arrest. And two cops were pointing guns at the guy getting his ass chewed off by the dog. There just weren't enough cops to go around.

They got both guys cuffed up in the next minute or so.

Moments later, I saw cops with shotguns and AR rifles running around, looking towards our house. They must be setting up a perimeter around the house out back.

"They must have the whole friggin' shift outside," I thought to myself.

The knock at the front door startled me.

"POLICE! Open up!"

"Nicole, tell the dispatcher we're Code 4 inside and will be coming out the l

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