Of Looting And Shooting

It's a thrill, looking at a house. You go to look at that new apartment, check ot that two-story wonder that finally passed escrow. Hey, it has a yard big enough for the dog and the kids?

My thill? Kicking the goddamn door down and raiding that bitch like the FBI.

It's every line animal's wet dream; the raid. Adrenaline junkie and action-movie thrill can't match wits with the form and flow of a bunch of men dog-piling a house like the defensive line of the Chicago Bears. Shouts, screams, the rush of feet moving as you barge your way in, like a man possessed. Sure, it's dangerous. But people don't parachute for the safety factor.

Of course, it doesn't help that I play "Flight of the Valkerie" by Wagner on loud on my truck as we go in. For a reference, watch Apocoylpse Now (the helicopter part). Believe me, that shit is intimidating, and motivating too.

Then again, I also got about half a dozen knives, a machette, and an extendable baton. I don't look like a soft target.