I've Just Been Shot With A Magnificent Gun
Oh. Ouch. I'll tell you, I'm really hurting pretty badly right now, my friends, and I'm sure a large part of this probably comes from the two bullets that are somewhere in my lower abdomen. That really does smart. But you know what? I don't even care. In fact, I'm really very happy right now. Why? Because the man that just did this to me has an absolutely fantastic taste in firearms.
I know what you're thinking: do most robbers really have that good a taste in guns? Sadly, I don't think so; these young punks are too busy trying to "score" their next "doobie" to really think about the gun they're using. Boy, it just makes me sick sometimes, that there are people in this world who would care more about drugs than the quality of the gun they're using. Maybe people would be a lot less sensitive to being robbed if they were assaulted with higher-quality guns. I know that's definitely been the case with me here tonight.
Ahhh. Ugh. That really does hurt, though. I wonder if this is how it feels for the nineteen different species of animals that I hunt when they are shot? Probably not -- I don't think primitive animal brains can really understand the idea of pain like our human brains can. After all, why would Jesus make something that we were designed to shoot be hurt by it? If anything, they probably like it.
Anyway, getting back to guns for a second, the one that was used to put these two metal projectiles in me a few minutes ago was a real beauty. As much as it hurts me to do so, I'm going to have to spare you the details of the gun, because it would literally hurt me to type out another 3,000 words -- which is the absolute minimum I would need to do it justice -- describing all of the gun's features. But my friends, believe me when I tell you: this is the kind of gun that I've always dreamed of being shot by.
Good lord, my stomach feels like it's on fire! Upon closer examination, I see that there really is quite the damage down there. That gun did its job, all right. If only everyone in our society worked as well as the guns they used to kill each other with. We might actually be going somewhere in this country of ours!
But I'm getting sidetracked -- I still haven't told you about what the robber went for. After he shot me and I congratulated him for having the quicker trigger finger than I (I would've got him first, but I was cleaning and polishing one of my guns when he came in, and so I had to quickly load it), I asked him what he was going for. After all, he did have a nice gun and all, but I still would've been a little perturbed if he went after my wife or something like that. Luckily, this young man was a little more upstanding than that, as he went straight for my big gun case and began removing the rifles.
"That's just great, son," I told him, smiling happily. "You've got a real eye on you, you know that? I tell you, there ought to be more kids like you out there in the world. Lord knows what they're teaching these damned hippies in college these days, but it sure isn't an appreciation for --"
At that point, he shot me once more in my stomach, probably because he was so overcome with love for his gun. Honestly, I can't say I blame him. I have a feeling I was probably working up to using one of my own guns in a similar fashion a similar way anyhow, if this hadn't happened. I just stopped talking -- partly out of necessity, but partly out of respect for the moment -- and let him go about his business. Eventually, I crawled over to the computer here, figuring I'd get it all down for posterity --
Mother of CHRIST, that hurts like a bastard. I think the pain is making me delirious, my friends, because I'm almost having sacrilegious thoughts about my guns. Like, it's too bad that we're driven to create these things that can cause us so much pain...but also love!...but also pain!...but it's our rights!...but my intestines are coming out!...but it was such a nice gun!
It really was very nice.
