Ruthie, your tale reminded me of something that happened Christmas season 2 years ago. Here's an old cut and paste from my gun board; sorry for the Beretta digression . . . . <img alt="" class="inlineimg" src="/images/smilies/grin.gif" style="border:0px solid;" title="

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Man, what a holiday season. Mrs. Bank went to an ice show with the kids and her mother last week, and left me alone for the evening (hooRAH). While I was in the den blasting some Alice In Chains into my brain via the headphones, a small chipmunk sized varmint scooted across the floor. I got up and followed it across the room and all of a sudden it took off and leaped up onto the top of the upright piano (from the floor). I thought it was a chipmunk and decided that since it got in, it could get out, so I went upstairs to my guest bedroom/office to mess around on the internet, when it went into the kitchen and was rooting around, knocking over plates, etc. I decided that this thing would have to go or Mrs. Bank would probably pack her bags and go stay at her Mom's until it DID, so I checked the ammo closet, no .22 rat shot in the house. Since I wasn't too crazy about using solids or anything of larger caliber in the house, and since my fat behind clearly wasn't gonna run this thing down, I reluctantly called an exterminator who dealt with these things, and he came over with a truck loaded with all sorts of traps, compressed air tranquilizer guns, etc., and set to work. Turns out I had been invaded by flying squirrels!! Hell, I didn't even know that we HAD flying squirrels in NC, much less the cities; I thought they were like Australian or something. Well, it took $300, 3 trips and some really funny episodes, but this good ole boy finally removed SIX of them from my house over the holidays, and sealed off the chimney and attic vents (their access points).<br><br><br><br>
Anyway, while he was scouring my house in search of the varmints, he noticed a lot of gun stuff, and started discussing firearms and guitars, and I quickly learned that he considered himself an expert at both. He claimed that he was in the Marines and was sent to Panama to "liberate" it from Noriega. Anyway, he told me that he had just been issued a brand new M9 Beretta before deployment, and, while slipping around a corner of a building, came face to face with a Panamanian armed with a SMG. He claimed that he raised his pistol and shot this guy in the forehead at point blank range, whereupon the slide separated from the frame and promptly struck him in the forehead, leaving a scar which he had me examine. After hearing a few more examples of this guy's exploits I concluded that he had concocted some tales based on stuff he had read in gun rags, though he no doubt possessed a small scar, perhaps from his wife's frying pan.<br><br><br><br>
This is the first guy who I have personally spoken to who actually claimed to have experienced first-hand the infamous slide separation which some say was a problem with the earliest M9s. This guy also climbed up into the chimney via the fireplace and was reaching around with thick gloves on when a flying squirrel ran down his outstretched arm, across his shoulder, and down the neck of his tee shirt onto his back, trapped against his skin by the shirt. He came out of my fireplace howling and ran out the front door into the yard, where he was pulling off his shirt in a panic before it fell out and went scrambling up a tree. He had a cut on his neck that was bleeding, and I said sheesh man, you need to go get a shot or something, but he said no, flying squirrels don't carry rabies, and he was up on his tetanus shots, so all was well. Talk about an American hero . . . . Bank, glad to not be a Beretta slide-stopping, flying squirrel exterminator.