Key Glock Quotes

The room was empty. She was gone. So were her shopping bags. So were the keys to the SUV. So was his Glock. Fury erupted. “Goddamn you, Tricks!

So, let’s move down the checklist, shall we, Sean?” “Let’s,” he says, as he holds a struggling Antoine in his iron grip. “We stole his money?” “Yep.” “Palo took his wife?” A nod. “We’ve trashed his reputation?” “He’s a fucking laughing-stock, but in truth, he did that himself.” “We stole his kingdom and gave a set of keys to the lieutenant fucking his wife, and positioned him to our advantage?” Sean’s menacing smile appears, and he nods. “Palo is going to have a damn good year.” “Did I leave anything out?” “His mistress just fled France.” He shrugs. “Something must have spooked her.” Antoine snaps his gaze between the two of us, his features twisted in utter defeat as I step toward him and press the barrel of my Glock to the center of his forehead. “And I didn’t have to lift a finger because I’m just a pawn, who managed to find a queen and make her fall in love with me. But what good is a pawn, who can check, without a mate?

I’m Captain Florida, the state history pimp Gatherin’ more data than a DEA blimp West Palm, Tampa Bay, Miami-Dade Cruisin’ the coasts till Johnny Vegas gets laid Developer ho’s, and the politician bitches Smackin’ ’em down, while I’m takin’ lots of pictures Hurricanes, sinkholes, natural disaster ’Scuse me while I kick back, with my View-Master (S:) I’m Captain Florida, obscure facts are all legit (C:) I’m Coleman, the sidekick, with a big bong hit (S:) I’m Captain Florida, staying literate (C:) Coleman sees a book and says, “Fuck that shit” Ain’t never been caught, slippin’ nooses down the Keys Got more buoyancy than Elián González Knockin’ off the parasites, and takin’ all their moola Recruiting my apostles for the Church of Don Shula I’m an old-school gangster with a psycho ex-wife Molly Packin’ Glocks, a shotgun and my 7-Eleven coffee Trippin’ the theme parks, the malls, the time-shares Bustin’ my rhymes through all the red-tide scares (S:) I’m the surge in the storms, don’t believe the hype (C:) I’m his stoned number two, where’d I put my hash pipe? (S:) Florida, no appointments and a tank of gas (C:) Tequila, no employment and a bag of grass Think you’ve seen it all? I beg to differ Mosquitoes like bats and a peg-leg stripper The scammers, the schemers, the real estate liars Birthday-party clowns in a meth-lab fire But dig us, don’t diss us, pay a visit, don’t be late And statistics always lie, so ignore the murder rate Beaches, palm trees and golfing is our curse Our residents won’t bite, but a few will shoot first Everglades, orange groves, alligators, Buffett Scarface, Hemingway, an Andrew Jackson to suck it Solarcaine, Rogaine, eight balls of cocaine See the hall of fame for the criminally insane Artifacts, folklore, roadside attractions Crackers, Haitians, Cuban-exile factions The early-bird specials, drivin’ like molasses Condo-meeting fistfights in cataract glasses (S:) I’m the native tourist, with the rants that can’t be beat (C:) Serge, I think I put my shoes on the wrong feet (S:) A stack of old postcards in another dingy room (C:) A cold Bud forty and a magic mushroom Can’t stop, turnpike, keep ridin’ like the wind Gotta make a detour for a souvenir pin But if you like to litter, you’re just liable to get hurt Do ya like the MAC-10 under my tropical shirt? I just keep meeting jerks, I’m a human land-filler But it’s totally unfair, this term “serial killer” The police never rest, always breakin’ in my pad But sunshine is my bling, and I’m hangin’ like a chad (S:) Serge has got to roll and drop the mike on this rap . . . (C:) Coleman’s climbin’ in the tub, to take a little nap . . . (S:) . . . Disappearin’ in the swamp—and goin’ tangent, tangent, tangent . . . (C:) He’s goin’ tangent, tangent . . . (Fade-out) (S:) I’m goin’ tangent, tangent . . . (C:) Fuck goin’ platinum, he’s goin’ tangent, tangent . . . (S:) . . . Wikipedia all up and down your ass . . . (C:) Wikity-Wikity-Wikity . . .

interrupted, straightening a stack of papers on her desk, then handing the papers to Diane. “That will be all.” “Of course,” Diane said with a smile. I watched her leave, then looked back at Margaret. “So he shot him twenty-three times with a Glock nine? He

Marc didn’t hesitate to activate the laptop and check the portable computer’s security. His firewalls and lockout protocols had been tested but not penetrated, just as he had hoped. Still, he resolved to crack the laptop’s case at the first opportunity to check for the presence of any bugs, key loggers or other unwanted additions. The daypack had also gained some extra content in the form of an emergency survival kit and a box of 9mm ammunition for the Glock. The pistol was in there too, and he was surprised to note that someone had cleaned it for him. Five star service, he thought.

Probably clipped a vital component. Larynx, or pharynx, or some other kind of essential structure, made of cartilage and spelled with letters from late in the alphabet. The guy’s eyes were rolled up in his head. His fingers were scrabbling gently against the floor, as if trying to get a grip or a purchase on something. Reacher squatted down and went through his pockets, and took his gun, and his phone, and his wallet, and his car keys. The gun was another Glock 17, not recent vintage, worn, but well maintained.

The key visual distinction between the drop and none-drop magazines is that the former have a square-edged U-shaped notch at the rear of the feed lips, whereas the notch on the latter is a smooth U-shape.