Dave had always thought of himself as a minimalist—until he walked into the gun store that day. He was just browsing, as he usually did, thinking about his next purchase to add to his “modest” collection of firearms. A few Glocks here, an old 1911 there, a shotgun he never fired because he liked the look of it, and of course, his Sig P365.
He’d bought the P365 a year ago on a whim. Compact, sleek, perfect for concealed carry, or so the sales guy had told him. He’d taken it to the range twice and fired a few boxes through it. It felt nice in his hand, the trigger was smooth, and the accuracy was decent. But, for some reason, it just didn’t feel like the right gun. Maybe it was too small, too "mainstream." He had a nagging suspicion that it wasn’t enough to make him the true tactical badass he had always imagined himself to be.
Then, just as he was about to leave, he saw it.
A gleaming, boxy piece of plastic with a label on the front: “Sig Sauer 21-Round Magazine for P365.”
It was like the clouds parted, and a beam of sunlight broke through. Dave’s heart raced as he picked up the magazine, his mind racing with possibilities. 21 rounds in a micro-compact pistol? This was it. This was the answer to all his problems. No more worrying about the low capacity of the stock 10- or 12-round mags. He would be ready for anything.
“Oh, yeah,” Dave muttered under his breath as he examined the magazine, “This’ll give me the edge. The edge I need.”
He could picture it now. His buddies at the range, all watching in awe as he slapped that 21-round mag into the P365, chambered a round, and fired with reckless abandon. The recoil would be nothing. The muzzle would be steady. His grip would be perfect. And most importantly, he would have enough ammo to engage the entire SWAT team if necessary—with a micro pistol.
The clerk noticed Dave’s excitement. “That’s a pretty hefty mag for such a small gun,” he said, raising an eyebrow.
Dave puffed his chest out, trying to act casual. “Yeah, I like to be prepared. You know, for whatever comes my way.”
The clerk nodded, clearly skeptical, but sold him the mag anyway.
Back in his car, Dave wasted no time. He unwrapped the magazine like it was a gift from the gods, inserted it into his Sig P365, and felt the weight in his hand. It was heavier now, the little pistol almost unrecognizable with that oversized magazine sticking out the bottom. But who cared? He wasn’t about to let a few extra ounces ruin his moment.
“21 rounds. I’m invincible now,” he said aloud to no one.
He drove straight to the range, and by the time he pulled up, his hands were sweaty. He was ready to show the world—no, the entire shooting community—that he had arrived.
At the range, his friends were already there. Mike, a former military guy who was always talking about tactical maneuvers, was the first to spot him.
“Uh, dude,” Mike said, squinting at the Sig. “That thing looks like it’s been on steroids.”
Dave smiled, relishing the attention. He loaded up the magazine and took his first shot. It went fine. But as he squeezed off round after round, the thing started to feel... unbalanced. The recoil was more than he was used to. The small frame of the P365 wasn’t built for a magazine that big, and the muzzle began to rise uncontrollably. He tried to correct, but it was like trying to steer a jet with a toy joystick.
“Jeez, dude,” Mike said, watching Dave struggle. “Maybe you should try a bigger gun. That thing looks like a gimmick now.”
Dave was determined. He spent the next half hour blasting through the entire 21-round mag. By the end of it, he was sweating. His wrist hurt. His accuracy was shot to hell. But he wasn’t about to admit that this was a horrible idea.
Instead, he walked over to Mike, who had just finished a clean run with his trusty Glock 19.
“Yeah, well, I’ve got more rounds than you,” Dave said, attempting a weak grin. “So, if there’s ever a zombie apocalypse, I’ll be fine.”
Mike just stared at him, clearly unconvinced. “Right. Sure thing, Dave.”
As he packed up his gear, Dave felt the weight of his decision. Maybe he had gone a bit overboard. Maybe the P365 wasn’t designed for a 21-round mag. But as he stared at the oversized, impractical magazine sticking out of his pistol, he couldn’t help but feel a bit of pride.
He had more rounds, and that’s what mattered, right?
