Three Bullets and a Big Gun
I don’t know what year it is, don’t think anyone does anymore. Not exactly a priority that needs worrying about. What I do know is that it’s been years since everything went to shit couple hundred I think. Couple hundred since some stupid countries decided to burn the world with nuclear hellfire and ruin everything for the rest of us. Which pretty much brings us up to the present, the worlds fucked any of the civilized people won’t let us into their towns and the rest of em would rather eat us. Speaking of which the latter a currently the reason i’m hunched down behind a burned out car checking how many bullets I have left. The answer to that particular question is three, I have three bullets left. Now granted I didn’t see how many of them there were before they started shooting but i’m fairly certain that three bullets aren’t enough. Wow how rude of me I haven’t introduced you yet, you are me or at least you’re the voices in my head that i’m currently talking to. I’ve yet to decide if you mean i’m crazy or you’re the only thing keeping me sane. Anyways back to our current predicament, im being shot at by a bunch of cannibal psychos who are attempting to turn my barricade into swiss cheese. Altho that could be a good thing all the bullets they’re firing means one of two things either they’re so fucked out of their mind on chems that they don’t care about their bullets or they’ve got bullets to spare. While the second option sounds quite lucrative, the fact that one of these guys is screaming about how he’s going to “wear my face like a face” makes me think it’s probably the first option. While that beautiful bit of annunciation was taking place there was alleviation of gunfire. Being a man of opportunity I was not planning on passing up that chance. So I swiveled fast, pointing the gun across the roof of the car, there were three of them supposed life’s funny that way. Two of them were reloading some 9mm peashooters but the other one was taking the clip out of some sort of automatic rifle not sure what type looked more rust than gun. Even so he was undoubtedly the biggest threat so i lined up the iron sights on his head and squeezed off a shot. Now i’m no gun expert and the specifics of these bullets had long since faded of the casing but they were big bullets like width of my thumb big so you better believe when this round connected with this psychos head it fucking evaporated. If that display of extreme gore bothered his crazy buddies they didn’t show it. The one in the middle had gotten his clip slotted into his gun when I got him right in the chest punching a hole the size of a fist right through his center. The last one almost got another shot off before my last bullet removed his arm from his shoulder. Shit even I wasn’t expecting this gun to do that much damage, hell I was half expecting those rounds to be duds. Well guess i’ll have to thank whatever sadistic jackass of a god that’s out there for having my back this time. Alls well that ends well I suppose and to the victor goes the spoils. Well like everyone else around here they didn’t have a whole lot, the guns some ammo and some jerky made out of what I can only assume was a less lucky me. Well all in all not the worst day i’ve had hell having three dead psychos might get me into a town somewhere or maybe a few more bullets for this goddamn hand cannon cause holy shit I think i’m in love with this gun. So as I turn to leave I hear this sound like gravel crunching behind me and when I turn around I get hit in the face with something I was not expecting. Remember guys whose arm I shot off? Yeah well as it turns out he was merely stunned and when he came to the closest thing to him was said arm. Which he then proceed to uses to smack me in the face. The crazy bastard may have been a lot of things but quitter was not one of them. At least not until I unloaded his pistol into his chest six or seven times cause he did quit after that. So that about wraps it up, last guys dead I drag them over to this here fine town you guys let me in I go get a drink at the local bar and I end up telling you this story. No not you, you as in the guy sitting across the table from me. Yeah the one who just gave me that weird look and left. huh , maybe you are proof that i’m crazy… or maybe I subconsciously knew that guy was gonna try to rob me after he got me liquored up. So many possibilities. Altho either way I should probably stop talking to you out loud. At least until i’m out somewhere less civilized.
