Fan Fiction

I wrote another sheepdog vignette (sorry, not sorry 😂):

Andrew downshifted, leaned forward, then revved the Honda CBR; blowing past the Rite Aid through the stale amber light at the intersection. Another day, another car full of leftists he thought to himself as he shook his head, glancing in the rear view mirror to see the silver Prius full of girls in their 20s stopped at the now-red light. “Got that drink to give your fat ass the energy to shoot someone?” , “Is that gun to protect your feelings from people making fun of your dumb helmet?”, “Don’t shoot! hahah” they taunted seconds earlier. This beautiful day off work was NOT going to be the day he would succumb to either second amendment or fat shaming. With the open Pacific Coast Highway in front of him, Andrew pulled the clutch, changed gears then leaned back, taking his hand off the left grip to touch his holstered M&P, making sure it was still seated in the kydex. Out of habit, he then reached to his lower back.. Yep, no surprise the retention on the ass-crack Monster was solid as usual. Adjusting to a more relaxed position, placing his hand on his left thigh, he cruised along.. looking out at the open ocean. Another 10 minutes or so to the parking lot at the lookout point, and he would be able to sip the tepid energy drink, resume the 4.5 hour Joe Rogan podcast episode he was working on, all while watching girls surf. “This is living, man…” he mumbled through his joker face print bandana into the wind, and smiled.

Pic from: applcobbler



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Jaxon was jolted awake, instantly feeling like he needed his morning coffee more than usual. It could have been the regular “saving the world” type dreams he had that made him feel less rested, or maybe it was because he was already subconsciously annoyed by the sound of his girlfriend McKayleigh’s Macbook keyboard. She was incredibly aggressive on the thing, which caused more than a few fights between the two of them; a topic which Jaxon finally learned to quit providing unsolicited commentary on. He emerged from the bedroom, glancing over at the kitchen island, where McKayleigh was going back and forth between fussing with her portable ring light, and smashing at letters on the keyboard to tell her colleagues that she’ll turn video and audio on in a minute. “Good morning babe!” Jaxon said, leaning in to kiss her. “Not now Jaxon. Uh I mean good morning, but I have to get on this Zoom call.. like 5 minutes ago actually” McKayleigh snapped. Jaxon walked quickly to the other side of the kitchen, where he pulled the stainless steel carafe from the base of the coffee maker. He could tell by the light weight of it, things were not looking good… he grabbed the nearest mug from the cupboard above with his other hand, then started to pour. Sure enough, barely 1/3 cup of cold sludge.. Great. Just as he was about to go through the steps to make a new pot, he could hear McKayleigh’s muffled yell from the pantry – “WE. ARE. OUT. OF. WINE. ArrrrrGHH!”. Knowing the stress punctuated comment was definitely made for him to hear, Jaxon turned his head and yelled back; “Didn’t I just get like 6 bottles?”. As she emerged from the small room she coldly glared at him due to the accuracy of this question, while taking it as rhetorical and simply stating “I need MORRRRRRRE. How else am I supposed to get through these meetings without the creative juice flowing?”. Jaxon chose not to point out the fact it was 9:30AM on a Thursday; instead offering to quickly get dressed and make the trip to the liquor store. Whatever… the stress levels were already too high for him to relax, the calls themselves (which she did daily) were annoying, plus it would give him a chance to grab a coffee on the way. On his way out the door, McKayleigh yelled “Kisses! Make sure to get something for yourself!”. “Ok, see you in a bit babe.” Wow how generous, I can buy a bottle for myself with my own money… what a novel concept thought Jaxon as he rolled his eyes and entered the access door to the garage, hitting the large grey button on the wall. The aluminum garage door loudly lurched up, bathing his Dodge Ram 1500 Rebel Crew Cab in morning light. Jaxon smiled, once again satisfied with his choice of Hydro Blue pearl paint, as he opened the driver’s side door to grab the handle and swing his body up into the plush leather seat. Flipping open the center console, he grabbed his trusty custom stippled M&P .40 in the Blackhawk SERPA and slid the paddle between his 5.11 pants and belt on his right hand side. With “Caribou Coffee” selected from the GPS favorites, and an ETA of 4.5 minutes, this morning was finally looking up for Jaxon.

The south end of strip mall parking lot was normally bustling at this time of morning, with the Caribou Coffee drive thru line typically stretching up to a dozen idling pickup trucks. This morning it was suspiciously empty. Jaxon drove up, and piloted the mighty 1500 between the concrete guides to make his way up to the ordering window. Upon arriving, there was a small sign which read “CLOSED DO TO CORVID-19. God Bless.”, so much for that thought an annoyed Jaxon as he let out a sigh. Chirping the tires in frustration, he pulled out of the drive thru and sped to the other end of the parking lot where the liquor store was. If there was one thing you could count on, it was liquor stores being open. Jaxon pulled into a parking spot near the entrance, where a large neon Budweiser sign indeed read “OPEN”, and people were coming and going. Jaxon hit the off button on the truck, press-checked his M&P, exited and made his way up to the entrance. Given the choice between sliding automatic doors and a smaller manual side door, Jaxon excitedly reached into his pocket for his house keys, which shared a keyring with a new EDC tool he recently ordered but hadn’t had a chance to try out yet. In the age of viruses this new tool was for poking and pulling things in day to day life in order to minimize contact. Jaxon put his middle finger through the loop and extended the hook end of the tool out to the door handle and pulled back. The first attempt caused the tool to slip back off the handle. Not a big deal, second attempt… hmmm same thing. By the third attempt, the weight of the door pulling on his middle finger was starting to hurt. Jaxon winced and straightened his hand, causing the partially open door to swing closed – pulling the EDC tool and keys with it, sending them crashing to the ground. “Need some help sir?” a girl in her early 20s asked as she was waking up to the automatic doors. Annoyed at the situation which just unfolded, in addition to being called sir Jaxon replied “I’m good, thank you Ma’am.” as he grabbed the items off the ground then pulled open the door with his right hand. Once inside he took a second to collect himself, massaging the bridge of his nose and eyes in frustration with the same hand. Next, pulling the phone out of his pocket, he started up the notes app to double check the name of the wines McKayleigh drinks… oh right, that expensive California stuff. I don’t know why she can’t drink the $8 bottles… Something about “the sulphites” giving her headaches; sounded like a fancy excuse. I’m sure they have plenty of good grapes here in North Dakota, he thought to himself as he made his way over to the USA Wines aisle near the middle of the store.

Still on his phone only half paying attention while walking, Jaxon arrived at the aisle cutting the corner very close with a hard right turn.. almost tripping over a display that wasn’t there a few days ago. He stopped to see what it was, and couldn’t believe his eyes SHEEPDOG WHISKEY that was PEANUT BUTTER flavored! Unbelievable!! This morning really took a turn for the better for Jaxon. He grabbed a wheeled basket from the opposite side of the aisle and carefully placed two of the bottles in it, all the while ignoring McKayleigh’s voice in the back of his head saying what she always says to him “Jaxon, puHleese be normal.. don’t drink your personality babe”. Whatever, my money my rules he thought as he took a handful of steps over to the California wines, with his Sheepdog Whiskey in tow. He quickly pulled the eight bottles that McKayleigh requested off the shelf and placed them haphazardly into the basket, then rushed to the front of the store to pay. “That’ll be $185.” the clerk said, as Jaxon cringed and fumbled to get the proper credit card out of the straps on his minimalist wallet. Why someone that works in “Social Media” for an online tea brand would need to drink $150 worth of wine per week during the day on video calls, was yet another topic that when brought up only caused Jaxon a lot of grief. Her justification was that it helped with the creativity on the marketing aspect of things. All Jaxon saw was a weak cobbled together predictably earth tone colored aesthetic appealing to basic girls, mixed in with stale memes and forced-feeling inspirational quote style captions that weren’t clever, original, or funny, but were supposedly to “promote positivity and community”. It was hard for him not to laugh when he first heard her say the latter part out loud.

Back in the powerful 1500 Rebel, according to the GPS Jaxon was 3 minutes from home. He thought of text messaging McKayleigh to ask if she could pause the video on her call when he arrived, but decided against it because she was already in a “mood”. Pulling up to the driveway, Jaxon hit the opener button and waited for the garage door. He pulled inside, and walked around to grab the wine and whiskey from the passenger side, closing the garage door by hitting the button with his elbow as he entered the house with the bags. “JaxxoONNNNNNNN? hahhaha JaxxxxxxONNNNN?! ahahahaha ” he could hear coming from down the hall. There were several voices overlapping and they all sounded drunk. Oh great thought Jaxon, as he took his shoes off and walked down the hall to the kitchen. Upon reaching the kitchen McKayleigh grabbed her open laptop with one hand and jumped up to greet him, somehow already smelling like wine, trying to give him a sloppy kiss. “Are you still on your call?” asked Jaxon. “AHHAHHA Yea! You know Ashleigh, Bria, and Amberleigh!” “HEYYYY JAAAAAXON” they echoed somewhat in unison on screen. “Oh, uh hey girls!” Jaxon awkwardly replied. “What did you get her!? SHOW US!” Amberleigh shrieked as McKayleigh grabbed the two bags from Jaxon and started unloading them on camera. “Chardonnay, Chardonnay, Cab, Chardonnay, Shee….” she trailed off and turned beet red, quickly fumbling for the next bottle. “LOL WHAT WAS THE LAST ONE?!” exclaimed Bria. “Nevermind.” McKayleigh replied in a serious tone. “SHOW US. SHOW US. SHOW US.” the three girls began chanting. Jaxon picked the remaining Whiskey bottle from the bag and quickly held it up to the camera “Sheepdog Whiskey, and it’s peanut butter flavored!”. The girls absolutely lost it, distorting the sound on the macbook speakers with their high pitched squeals and cackles. McKayleigh instantly turned even more red. She glared at Jaxon, and quickly slammed her macbook screen down, ending the call.



See you in a bit, I’m headed to AutoZone!” exclaimed Jared to his fiance Karen. “Didn’t you already get the Punisher decals and that huge chrome Calvin urinating on the Toyota symbol last week?” she replied. “Hell yeah I did, I gotta upgrade to the racing brake pads though… for safety” he barely managed to say without a smirk. “Alright.. well just don’t go overboard.” Karen felt she had to add, as Jared already had one foot out the door.

In the driveway Jared’s newest beast was waiting; A 2020 F-350 XL SUPER DUTY with the V8 Powerstroke. He hopped in and hit the push button start… Nothing happened. He hit it again and heard a click. Not in the least bit phased or frustrated he pushed the button a third time and the truck spurted then gurgled to life. “Must be the new anti-theft system they told me about at the dealers, sweet!” impressed, he said to himself. Jared put the truck into reverse, backing out of the driveway and almost hitting his fiance’s Nissan Leaf. The drive to the AutoZone was uneventful, except for two police cars speeding past him in the opposite direction on the highway. Jared touched his hand to the base of the grip on his IWB Glock 21, knowing that someday… somewhere when the boys in blue ever needed backup he would gladly oblige. He didn’t shoot much, but he watched enough YouTube videos to know he was a deadly asset.

The AutoZone parking lot was surprisingly empty for a Sunday afternoon; a blessing in disguise considering Jared couldn’t park the truck properly to save his life. Backing into a large spot (to make a quick exit if need be), he still managed to hop the curb and press the rear bumper against an already struggling sapling on the outskirts of a flower bed. Oblivious to all of this, Jared put 5.11 A.T.A.C.’s to asphalt and briskly walked towards the entrance. “It ain’t me… it ain’t me… I ain’t no senator’s son…” CCR played quietly over the outdoor intercom speakers as Jared grabbed the door handle “I AIN’T NO FORTUNATE ONEEEEEEE NAHHHHHW. Hey Fellas!” Jared sung out as a portly looking worker covered in motor oil who was messily eating a gas station style hoagie, briefly diverted his eyes upwards from the classified section of the newspaper. “I’m looking for new brake pads for my 2020 F-350 XL SUPER DUTY… what you got?” Jared inquired. The man never looked up again, but a teen girl emerged from the back and asked him to repeat his question. “Oh yea the 3F 50.. Riiiiight I’ve heard those things are rough on brakes” the girl said. “Oh, no it’s brand new I just wanted something steeped in performance. What are my options?” asked Jared. Thinking back to her training last week, of always maximizing the sale and profiling the customer with dead giveaways and playing off those to sell the high margin products, the girl paused… “You look like you work out… I mean like, you look strong. You a cop?” Despite the fact that Jared was not Law Enforcement this absolutely made his entire day. “People ask me that a lot” (Note: no one ever has… not even once) “I’m a sheepdog if you know what that is… basically the same thing.” continued Jared. “I knew it!” the girl said, half flirting with him at this point. “Do you know Stop Tech? We just got these new brake pads in that are absolutely made for protectors like yourself. I’ll go grab them from the back, don’t go anywhere k?” Jared definitely wasn’t going anywhere. The girl emerged holding a box; while walking towards him she read “Engineered for extreme conditions….” Jared cut her off “Wait.. does that say tactical? Are they thin and blue?” The girl knew this sale was in the bag; “You bet! You even kind of look like the guy on the box ha ha” she replied. “Haha I kinda do. I’ll take them.” replied Jared. “Quick response for first responders…” he read out loud off the box while she scanned the barcode. “It is a good idea to splurge on these little things that help me protect better.” he said, which at this point fell on uninterested ears. 📷 @the__nicholas__christian

Hope you guys enjoyed that, thanks for reading… hopefully you got a laugh or two.  The fellas on Instagram absolutely lose their mind over these, so I’m going to try to do them more often.



I looked at this pic, and almost immediately created this Sheepdog fan fiction you can read below:

Kyle pulled into the parking lot of the Best Western PLUS, making a hard left then pounding the gas pedal once; making the nearly bald tires on the Crew Cab Dodge Ram 1500 4×4 chirp loudly. Coming to an abrupt stop under the awning at the entrance, Kyle carelessly flung his door open hitting the shuttle bus next to him. He hopped out, both of his Coyote colored 5.11 combat boots hitting the ground at the same time; slamming the Ram door closed with such force it’s incredible the window didn’t shatter. This got the attention of a weathered looking lady chain smoking on the bench at his 2:00. As Kyle squeezed his girthy midsection between his truck and the bus, he glanced over at the woman and their eyes met. “The BW PLUS amirite? *rubbing his fingers together to represent big money* Not that broke regular BW shit.” he commented, impressing her with his wit. She laughed and started to reply after finishing a massive drag of her cigarette, but was interrupted by a coughing fit followed by the need to snort and spit a viscous red, grey, and green mixture of fluids on the ground as Kyle walked past her towards the hotel entrance. Realizing she was actually younger than he originally thought; “that’s a baaaaaaadd woman”, Kyle said quietly to himself as the two automatic doors sensed his presence and opened wide.

Once inside the maroon and dark wood lobby, he was greeted by a female staff member. “Checking in sir?” she said in a cheerful tone. “YUP” Kyle replied as he approached her, fumbling through his left cargo pocket. He fished around amongst the dip container, keys, flashlight, extra Ruger magazine, custom handkerchief, knucks, lighter, pen, multitool, paracord monkeyfist, cell phone, and folding knife until finally locating his RFID blocking custom EDC wallet containing his ID and credit card. It was one of those complicated wallets with bungee cords and multiple pieces, which ended up being a big production every time it was opened… Kyle loved it though. As he flipped the one retaining bungee cord off of its notch to deploy the cards, the BW girl caught a glimpse of one of his forearm tattoos. “Mow-lawn-lay-bee? Is that how you say it? That’s one of those Conservative gun things?” she asked. “Mow-lawn-law-bay… come and take them. It’s from that movie 300.” he replied, his face lighting up. “ …and yea I’ve been known to put booger hook to bang switch occasionally.” he said modestly while smirking. “We have CNN on all day here… what do you think about Trump’s new comment on silencers?” she asked. Impressed that this girl seemed to be an ally, Kyle was more than happy to talk shop with her. “Honestly, I ain’t too worried about it… Trump man… My president knows things we don’t. I trust the guy.” he said as he took a deep breath and adjusted to a more authoritative body posture. “Look, I have lotsa silencers” he continued… “but I never wore ear plugs for shooting before I had them, and I can hear fine. If they give me what I paid, for what I got.. then yea I’ll give em back. Won’t affect me none. I’ll keep on shooting. I just worry about the neighbors waking up ahhaha” he laughed. “Oh ok, good to hear sir. Anyways, your room is ready… it’s by the pool #762, down the hallway past the ice machine, then on your left. Enjoy your stay.” “Whut? I’m sorry I couldn’t hear what you said Miss, can you repeat that?” Kyle asked. She repeated the room number and directions loudly back to him in the quiet empty lobby. “762, hell yea thank you. Catch you in Valhalla. I’ll go move my truck” he said nodding once politely, then pivoting on his right foot 180 degrees surprisingly quickly before making his way back towards his parked truck.


Thoughts? 😂


You used to shoot to get away from drinking.  Now apparently… 😬😬😬.  I wrote a fan fiction I hope you’ll cringe reading:

“MODELOS FOR THE FELLAS. PACIFICOS FOR THE…” Brian paused briefly, hoping his girlfriend Carly would finish his sentence; she didn’t. Brian continued emphatically “HOEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEES” as he attempted a shuffleboard style slide of the Pacifico he just opened across the wooden table to her. Barely out of his reach, the beer hit a knot in the wood and toppled over, spilling in Carly’s direction. “Brian!?! It’s 10:30AM what the hell are you even doing?” she yelled, pushing her cereal aside; grabbing the still foaming bottle cupping her hand under it as she walked briskly to the sink. “It’s a big day today, I gotta get loose for the audit.” he reminded her. “Oh right, the audit” she said supportively, but with a layer of disappointment in her voice. Brian nodded, taking another swig of his Modelo before blowing into the breathalyzer he recently picked up at a gas station. 0.06% – almost there he thought. He liked to keep the blood alcohol level at around the 0.07 – 0.075% mark when doing a 2nd Amendment audit. It was just one more thing to troll the police on. A real teachable “gotcha” type moment. Oh to see the looks on their faces when they ask if you’ve been drinking, and you say yes… then they breathalyze you and see you haven’t broken the legal 0.08% limit. Priceless, thought Brian. Today he was taking it a few levels further. Not only would he smell of alcohol, but he would be open carrying an AR-15 pistol with a brace on it and a FN FNX .45 on his hip. In addition to that it was around 50 degrees out, so he decided it would be a perfect time to rock an all black balaclava with sunglasses, and a woodland camouflage jacket he painted the punisher head onto. “Oh man the cops and civilians are going to learn a LOT about freedom today hahah” Brian cackled. Carly remained unimpressed as she continued to clean up the mess left by the spilled beer. “I better get this show on the road, Papa Johns needs me for deliveries at lunch” Brian said as he slipped his bottle charger charging handle bottle opener back into the AR-15 pistol, rising from his seat to collect his fully charged GoPro and other supplies before heading out to the park to perform the audit.

“Everything is coming up Brian” he said under his breath as he pulled his JEEP up to an empty parking spot on the side of the road directly in front of the play structure. Brian figured he would walk a short loop around that area, then over the bridge and around the pond. It shouldn’t take longer than that for the police response he thought. As he sat unnoticed in the JEEP, he pulled the ski mask over his head and slid on his Oakley Gascan sunglasses. He did up his jacket tightly, then clipped the GoPro into its pocket mount, pressing the button and waiting for the red light to show it was recording. For effect, Brian placed the AR-15 pistol in the passenger seat. Exiting the vehicle, he walked around back heading to the passenger side – loudly clearing his throat and spitting on the ground. In his limited peripheral vision, he could see several moms at the play structure area taking notice. Brian opened the passenger side door to grab his AR-15 pistol, and with it in hand slammed the hollow JEEP door loudly then pressed the lock button on the key fob twice so the horn honked. Several moms were frozen in horror at this point, while Brian methodically threw the sling strap over his head, then tightened the pistol closer to his chest while walking slowly in their direction.


If you like the bottle opener in the picture, as I mentioned it’s by Bottle Charger.  I think it goes without saying that the company is veteran owned.  By that I mean these really “niche” ones all are.  The pricing on the site is confusing at first glance, but I’m sure if you want one you’ll figure it out somehow.  Maybe it’s $37.99 plus another $7.90 for shipping?  Who knows.  I have no idea how to actually add one to the cart either.  Something they should probably look into making easier.

On a related note, the fan fiction is actual a prequel to a real life situation that happened; the whole “2nd Amendment Audit” thing.  I swear this fan fiction writes itself, the world contains a lot of cringy characters doing WILDLY cringy things.




A couple people sent me this pic, so I had to do another Sheepdog Fan Fiction.

“They don’t want this smoke!” Charles muttered as he strutted on the deck, vaguely motioning to the outside world while looking over at Irene, his wife of 65 years. “Isn’t that what our grandson DeShawn says?” he asked. Irene entirely missed what he said, but looked up.. shook her head yes.. smiled.. then looked back down at her Reader’s Digest. “I’ll tell you whUT, if the sound of me putting one in the chamber doesn’t scare them away, or the birdshot doesn’t kill em, then the 1911 will finish the job.” he said as he removed the no-frills GI series Rock Island Armory .45 from the Uncle Mike’s nylon holster his left hip. He proceeded to press check it 5 or 6 times, not because he was old and forgetful, but rather since recently getting a desktop computer he noticed that on “website tv” all the young kids were doing that. “Your tea is getting cold” Irene warned, to which he rolled his eyes and gingerly placed the 1911 back in its holster before going to join her on the patio set. As he sat down pain jolted through his right side, specifically his leg “AHagggggggghhhhgHHGHG Irene my leg! Call 911 I think I’m having a.. a stroke!”. Irene frantically put down the Reader’s Digest and rose from her seat to get the phone from inside the house. She looked over at Charles to make sure he was at least good enough to be alone for the few seconds he would be out of her sight. She noticed something… the shotgun holster straps… “Hey Charley…” she said barely able to contain her laughter. “Get that sorted out with your tight holster straps and you’ll be fine… idiot.” she said as she went to sit back down. “Tip of the spear… isn’t that what you and Clarence call each other from back in the day?” she said said chuckling as he fiddled with the leather straps looking relieved but unamused.

👴👴👴 📷blackacestactical via @these_dying_lights @deishell09