At age 12 I surprised a burglar opening my parents' outside bedroom door at 1 a.m. (I thought it was my little sister playing a prank and was about to jump out and yell "BOO!" until I realized it was a 5'9" white guy in a tank top and 3 days of stubble.) Instead of going "drama queen" I went "war movie" and did my best Marine belly crawl backwards from the door and to the head of the stairs, where I yelled, "DADDY! There's a man on the back porch!" (I guess I should have tip-toed up to him and whispered in his ear, but time was of the essence.) While dad grabbed the shotgun from the sofa (he'd been shooting crows), mom grabbed the phone, and was on the phone quick enough for the dispatcher to hear the two shots . . . the guy was jumping off the back porch, and dad caught him with the choke barrel in the air and the scatter barrel when he hit the ground. Unfortunately it was only #6 or 7 shot.
But mom and I both kept our heads. My sister slept through the whole thing. We never heard from Mr. Perp again, but dad was sure he got at least one solid hit, and the police officer who showed up an hour later told us we shouldn't have any more problem with burglars. And we never did -- my parents left their doors unlocked and the keys in the cars for 30 years, in the City of Atlanta, with no problem.
It may just be a Southern thing, the women around here are flint-eyed mean. When there was an escaped convict around here, mom was toting a .32 revolver in her purse. She was also in a drive-by shooting in New York City more recently (at age 65). A couple of guys shot out the windows of her cab, the cabbie was screaming and praying and having hysterics, she shoved her friend down on the floor, jumped out of the back, shoved the driver over, said, "Let me drive" and got the !#@)($%)(& outta there.
LOL!!
Point taken. Nevertheless, my thesis stands...backed up by reality. I do appreciate your current service.