Gunplay

When the gun went off it scared the s**t

out of us both, in that tiny room the sound

was horrendous, a live thing, I couldn’t hear anything

except ringing and fear, cordite reek and

his wife was shoving a towel under the door

so the smoke wouldn’t make the hallway

and even in my shock, I was pretty impressed

she knew that trick, an old pot smoker’s move

I rose from the couch stiffly, and we could

trace the bullet path through his window,

then the screen, and out, out into the city

oh my god, oh my god, he said, what have I done?

but the bullet traced to a berm, in a

construction site, on a Sunday…

Moments before pulling the trigger, he’d pointed

the .40 at the TV, at the wall, behind which

was his wife happily doing dishes, he’d

pointed it at me and laughed when I told

him to knock it the f**k off, said there was no

clip, turned to the window, pulled the trigger to show me

to find there was one in the chamber

the entire time and I think that’s where I learned

how dangerous life can be…

he was the smartest, most careful man I knew

and he shot up the Salt City.

Reviews

[Fabian G. Franklin]

Damn. This was a great story. I hung on every word. And I've known people to do this very thing. Crazy. I've also been in a room with gunfire and it was loud...deafening...I love your description here. Spot on. This is some gritty writing. I love it.

[JR]

Thanks man. True story. Now I always ALWAYS check the chamber, even when I know it's empty.