Wednesday, January 16, 2013

What guns might say if they could only talk

I was feeling good. Once again he had his hands wrapped around my slender butt and life was grand.

He gently caressed me, then held me out at arm’s length, whirling me about in a feverish dance. I was too much in the moment to even notice that he was showing me off to the small crowd in the distance.

He actually seemed to be, well, aiming me in their direction. No matter, I was all oiled up and ready for action. And then he cocked me and gently pulled my trigger – again and again and, yet again. When the smoke cleared and I saw the carnage all about, all I could do is smile.

After all, guns don’t kill people.

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