canister gun

The sauna makes you feel good.

StoryKettle » GRANNY » canister gun

Copyright © 2020, Michael M Wayman

Tuesday evenings are model railway club and sauna, but I had something else on my mind. I drove George to his beloved model railway clubhouse and returned. Olive and granny were in the sauna; Olive and George have a fitness centre in the cellar of their home.

The sauna makes you feel good and is great for a long chat. Later I left Olive and granny in the sauna and drove to the clubhouse. Was George in there?

No, of course not. Next to the clubhouse is a short piece of rail track with an old Pullman restaurant car on it. Every clubhouse has to have a bar somewhere. I helped George into the car and bit later into his bed.

I washed the girls for the last time that evening; they had another drink. I helped granny into the car and drove her home.

Some hours later I was still thinking about my new toy. I slipped out of bed and flowed under the door and walked down town. My new toy was in my pocket. There were plenty of people hanging around; they talked to their phones, not to each other.

A message came up on my screen: a man with knife in the Candy Cut Bar. I entered the bar and there he was. All eyes were on me. I pulled out my canister gun, aimed, and pressed the trigger. A long snake of glue shot out of the gun and wrapped itself around the miscreant – immobilisation.

The gun recorded a short video and my verbal report and filed it. A small patrol van arrived, grab hands came out, and the offender was removed from the scene like a wrapped-up parcel.

I walked on further: riot at the fountains. No problem really, I pulled out the canister gun and calmed the situation. But what happened next was not part of the usual script.

Somebody grabbed the canister gun out of my hands – I was now unarmed. But the gun was useless for anyone else, it recognised only my finger on the trigger and it wouldn’t fire at me.

A patrol van stopped next to me and gave me another canister gun – I held the gun with both hands, the patrol van registered me and trigger-bound me to the gun. I would probably get my original gun back sometime later.

I walked on further. All eyes were on me.