The evolution of the relationship between me and my gun

It all started with the sadness.

Then came the depression, followed by suicidal tendencies.

I decided that my life just wouldn't be right unless I had a gun to put in my mouth.

So, I buy a gun.

It’s a small gun...but I’m sure it could blow my brains out if I needed it to.

So, the fine people at Wal Mart decide to over look my criminal record in the name of good old fashioned capitalism and finally sell me my gun.

After the waiting period, I take it home.

So, I’m sitting at home dwelling on whomever or whatever or whomever doing what ever with whomever (or what ever it is that gets me depressed), which makes me remember my new gun.

I start to feel a real connection to this gun. As the day progress, I find myself more frequently striking a pose in front of the mirror, pointing the gun at different points on my head, which perpetuates that connection even further. Sometimes I even go as far as putting on a bandanna and re-enacting my very favorite thing about being a POW in 'Nam, all that great Russian roulette!

Anyway, a routine develops.

I start to act like an asshole to drive away all my friends, then, I start to dwell on how I don’t have anyone, and then I put the gun in my mouth and cry a little bit.

I do this daily.

Sometimes more then once.

Sometimes while at work.

At first, I would just rest the gun on my tongue but one day I find myself talking to the gun or I find the gun talking to me. It has the voice of a seductive woman. It only tells me one thing at first. It says, "Tonight, i want you to stick your tongue in me."

Of course, I assume that I am crazy and continue to clean my gun neurotically.

A few hours pass and thoughts of people having more fun then I am start to cross my mind, which makes me realize that I need some quality time with the old gun.

I sit on the toilet, shove the barrel in my mouth and then let my tears flow freely.

I remember the voice and I decide to brush my tongue against the barrel cautiously, as if accidental.

My tongue flirts with the barrel for a little while and then out of pure impulse I shove my tongue deep into the barrel. I can hear the gun moan in delight and then I start to feel awkward and stop.

This continues for two weeks, each night with the gun in my mouth more and more passionately intense.

"Pull the trigger, baby," It whispers to me.

I then tell the gun to stop pressuring me and that I am not ready for that yet. The gun gets frustrated but is patient with me. Like a good girl.

Meanwhile, at work one day, I sit up to think about the pain for a moment and then realize that I feel like I have something I need to discuss with the gun.

I sit down in the handicapped stall, and I put the gun in my mouth but it doesn't feel right this time.

I usually feel like im going to cry, but not this time. Instead It feels like I’m being manipulated, and I start to feel really cheap.

The gun picks up on my negative feelings, which turns her on. .

I start to gently caress the trigger and think unhappy thoughts.

My finger wraps all the way around the trigger and I get the urge to squeeze.

"That’s right baby, pull the trigger. You know you want to" she says seductively, trying the same old tricks that got me hooked in the first place.

"Yeah, you know what?" I say to it coyly

"OooMmmm...what baby?" she replies playfully

"I’m through with all this." I then say, sternly.

"Ooo baby...yeah. Yeah. Pull that trigger baby," She says, at her boiling point, as though she is a woman who just cant wait any longer.

I pull the gun out of my mouth.

"NO! I MEAN, IM THROUGH WITH YOU!”

...and then I throw the gun at the ground in defiance.

Finally, I realize how stupid it all is. How stupid it all was. Here I am, acting silly, having a tawdry love affair with a loaded gun, and for what? Because my problems? Because whomever wont do whatever?

Bullshit!

I’m being an idiot here! It is me being an asshole that has always been what really causes all my problems.

I realize that, and suddenly I don’t need to be depressed ANY LONGER!

It’s Time I finally move on, get my head straight, my life in order and my shit together.

This is the awakening! It is a new day for me!

...then the gun hits the ground, goes off and shoots the guy in the next stall right in the head.

I think I hear a toilet flush.

Some time later, I get the electric chair. 


THE END

:-)