Whenever someone pulls into my driveway and I’m not expecting anyone, I go into a backroom with a weapon and lock the door. This isn’t out of fear, mind you. I’m waiting for them to break in, and when they do, they’ll get stabbed or shot before they can blink.
I don’t answer the door for anyone these days. Not even family. If friends or family want to come over, they know they need to text me that they’re at the door, and then stand far enough back that I can see them through the peephole.
The other day, a friend was “in the neighborhood” and decided to drop by. He didn’t let me know he’d be doing this, and didn’t follow procedure. Instead, he thought it would be funny to try to just come in. The door was locked, of course. I snuck out the back with a Taser. It’s just blind luck that he didn’t get Tased. He’ll know for next time, though, that’s for sure!
by Bartt Zarb
Residential Life Magazine