The first apartment I moved into had had some party kids living in it before me. My understanding is they grew some weed in there and had to leave in a hurry as the local police were showing interest in having a little Come to Jesus with them. About the third night I was in there, two kids came knocking on the door at about 2:30 in the morning after the bars started closing. I had no idea who they were or why they were knocking on my door. I rolled out of bed, hit the floor and racked the 870 all in one motion. They took off like a couple of turpentined cats. Never had a lick of trouble after that. They damned hear got hit by a car when they ran across the street, as I heard breaks skidding, and some choice invective's hurled their way as they hit the street.
I guess it's true what they say about the sound of a pump shotgun having its action racked.
