My Dad was a Gun Grabber .

My dad was a grabber. I was 3 years old when I first remember him trying to take my guns.<br><br>His tactics were better than most because he always tried to use stealth. I’d be sitting on my butt, playing with a toy in the middle of my playpen with my back turned to the door. That’s when he would try to sneak up. He thought that if he was quiet enough, he could snag my trusty .50 cal M1919-A4 machine gun before I noticed. <br><br>I’d only been bitten by his thievery once before. I had just learned to stand up in the playpen, and was still a bit wobbly. I had set my .38 down for a second and turned away - and the next thing I knew, I was being tossed over his shoulder and carried off to bed. I was going to sleep, and I was not happy. <br><br>But I learned. By the time I was 6 months old, I had honed my defensive capabilities. I knew the sound of the door, and I knew that when I heard it - I had to act fast. With my .38 clutched in one hand and my airsoft M4 in the other, I had the best chance of winning.<br><br>His ambush would begin with a slow creep through the door. I would hear the click of the latch, and I’d spin around. I could see his silhouette, looming large in the doorway. He was a big man with a chiseled jawline and deep, heavy-set eyes that locked onto his target. He’d start his advance, slowly and quietly.<br><br>I’d begin to shriek, shouting and wailing as loud as I could. This was my domain, and he knew it. I raised my .38 and put it right between his eyes, then stuck my M4 in his earhole. He never got past the half-way mark before retreating. He’d turn around and walk back out the door - defeated. <br><br>I learned that my dad was not a threat to my security. He was annoying, but his tactics were so consistent that I could always defend myself. I felt safer knowing that he would never take my guns again.<br><br>This went on for years, until I was too big for the playpen. He never got any better at taking my guns, but I never let my guard down, either. <br><br>After the playpen came my bedroom, but the game didn’t change much. I’d still hear him coming, he’d still creep through the door, and I’d still aim my guns at him and scream. <br><br>It wasn’t until I was about 6 that I considered a different tactic. I was playing with Legos one afternoon when he walked in. The door made its signature click, and I knew it was him. I reached for my baseball bat that was sitting next to me - and I waited. The door crept open, and I saw that silhouette. This time, I wasn’t going to jerk my gun up at him. This time, I was going to wait.<br><br>He crept further and further inside until he was almost to me. I waited silently. This was my domain, and I could feel it. He bent down at the waist and reached for my baseball bat - and BAM!<br><br>I swung it up as hard as I could, aiming straight for his head. I was so proud of myself. This was the first time that I had successfully defended myself against my dad’s grabber tactics. He didn’t stand a chance! I had never felt so proud, and I knew that no one could ever take my guns away from me!<br><br>&#x200B;<br><br>[EDIT] Hi. I am the OP, and I am not the author of this story. I don't know who is. I just saw it posted on some random Facebook Group (I'm in a bunch of grabber and gun groups, so I can stay on top of all the gun news and gun-grabber news)<br><br>The only thing I did was change the name of some guns to airsoft ones, to remove any confusion.<br><br>Thank you<br><br>&#x200B;