Real Murder Victims are Bad Enough
At first, police dispatch in Munich, Germany, sorta brushed it off when an excited citizen called in to report his neighbor carrying a woman's lifeless body into his apartment in the dark of night. Excitable people make mistakes, you know. But the call was logged and noted. The caller was pretty specific in describing the "murder victim." Now, when the second call came in, that got some serious attention. Another lifeless female body, this time dressed differently, different hair color, complexion, and shoes...Munich PD rolled, with teeth clenched.
Officers were even more suspicious when they rapped on the suspect's door and he was nervous, a bit hostile, barely dressed, and perspiring freely. What the heck was he doing with those bodies? After they told him they were investigating a possible homicide, though, he became more cooperative, and invited them in to check out his collection of lifelike, life-size silicon sex dolls.
Now, kids, don't confuse these upscale "virtual partners" with those cheap, inflatable sex dolls your brother-in-law keeps in his closet. These are semi-solid, realistically dense and heavy toys with "special features" we won't go into. As for our pal's state of mind and body when he answered the door, a police spokesperson told reporters, "Apparently he had just been testing out his new acquisition when police arrived." Officers completed their inspection of his five "ladies," excused themselves, and got outta there. Probably to the nearest bar, to try to erase that particular memory.
Not as Tough as He Looks
For more than a decade, the crime-torn nation of El Salvador has been such a hotbed of robbery, kidnappings, and assassinations that the joke is, "Before you buy a car, first get a bodyguard." It's a virtual certainty that if you've got anything worth taking, a buncha thugs with guns are going to come for it. As a result, El Salvador has more "private security agents" than cops, and hardly a day goes by that one or more "privates" aren't involved in shootings with crooks.
One of the most successful and respected of the "privates" was a big, mean-looking dude who routinely escorted his clients around San Salvador, ordnance at the ready, scanning the surroundings with gimlet eyes. He was so feared and respected that the police couldn't even remember the last time someone had tried to take him on, and therein lies an interesting tale.
When the government recently decided to check and register all guns used by the bodyguards, our pal was one of the first they approached. But he refused to hand over his roscoe. Yeah, refused. And the government lads weren't real enthused about trying to take it away from him, either, but they had their orders. The call went out for reinforcements, and when it began lookin' like that last scene in "Butch Cassidy & The Sundance Kid" minus The Kid, he finally relented-and handed over his toy gun.
Yep, a realistic-lookin' toy, but definitely a toy. See, he never really wanted to hurt anybody, and for more than 10 years, he hadn't had to. And he had found that all one really needs is a goodly supply of 'lerts, a professional mad-dog look, and the right toy autopistol. Don't try this at home, kids....
