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Monday, October 23, 2017

Used to sit beside the railroad with a gun ny sack.RIGINAL.

by riginal (writer), moe australia, June 05, 2014

Lot of "gonna do dis gonna do dat" gun toting small talk around. In between building underground nuke shelters to keep the underground next door nuke family out...stop them from borrowing sugar?

GUN SHY. RIGINAL.

"Goodnight Mr. President. You've had a hard day sir, can i get you anything sir."

"No thanks John, thank you, goodnight."

The projectile warehouse chief engineer-in- charge of the largest ammunition producing conglomerate in America- in fact the only one- sighed. He brushed the deliberate ash flicked in his direction by the disgruntled turner and fitter, off the lunch table with a patient hand. Wiped the grey smear residue with a tissue.

"Allan, like you to step into my office. Something i'd like to discuss." The wiry engineer stood up, beckoned the cocky fitter to precede him.

"You don't have to agree or disagree with the President's plan which comes with the responsibility of utmost security, i know it's against your personal slant of how this plant is run and you have made it clear to the others...going to have to let you go. Anything you utter outside this complex involving our project could result in a substantial prison term. You will be monitored up until the time 'ammo one' starts distribution in our selected area of trial out. You will be searched, escorted out."

Allan grunted indignation, ignored the handshake. "Won't work boss, even though you've cleaned the test site of existing ammo and supplied through known dealers the new guns it just won't work...there is bound to be some leftover..."

"Bye Allan." Jim Gard motioned security.

"Jim, you're a peace lover they hate you down there, why take on this project? What if it backfires? They'll blame you." She placed his steaming plate of favorite on the kitchen table, dropped the cutlery on the floor in mock protest when he lifted her up slowly. She didn't resist, it was his favorite low cut dress. "Jim eat, before it gets cold." He bit softly into her pouting lip. He kicked the cutlery aside, embraced her tiny waist, slid the wide red belt off her figure melded black dress. Sat her on the table,edged his body between her legs gently kissed her worried frown- marveling at his good fortune to snare such a woman. He ran his hand through her dark close cropped hair.

"It's getting cold Jim." He grimaced. Impaled the edge of her bottom lip with his teeth again, she murmured,didn't cry out. Pushed hard into him.

He stood behind her helping her to adjust her dress, ran his tongue across the nape of her scented neck, waiting as the microwave whispered heat into the twenty minute cold meal. Picked up the red belt, drew it tight past the normal notch until she gasped. She turned side on nestling her smudged makeup on his white wife stained silk shirt...rubbed her cheek into it, felt the minuscule jolt of electricity, or was it the still sparking embers of the fire within her. "Jim leave that job..." she handed him the plate...he slid a finger into the gravy wiped it on her cheek, sucked it off slowly,deliberately, held her at arms length. "Can't do that my gravely gravy worried red belted sexy woman. Promised the Pres to see it through."

Jim set the tolerance, it was copied verbatim down the line. Earmuffs donned, the chattering run began. Several of the setters shrugged, rolled their eyes behind the chief engineer's back said nothing. Didn't question the guns.

The first ammo load left. Distribution in the town was easy. At night the figures collected the ammo nonchalantly. Bad people. Equally bad choices from within a town racked with violence, and drug fueled want...something for nothing...at gun point. They didn't question the weaponry. As long as it killed. Didn't matter the brand as long as they fell- branded.

The drive by shooters cursed, the retaliatory return firefight numb. No stray bullet hit the wide-eyed child standing on the footpath, wasn't killed before he knew the meaning of kill. The bank robbers blanked out. Held up their hands, dropped their unloaded weapons.

Jim turned on the news slapped his wife on the buttocks as she walked past, she turned,smiled, glad it had been a success. "....at the instigation of the President guns and low cost ammunition infiltrated one of the worst towns known for gun violence. The ammunition deliberately manufactured slightly oversize caused an uproar of protest from the criminal element who threatened to sue the government for interfering with their stock in trade.

One woman is suing after she ricked her neck as a result of a false duck when a gun was pointed at her. Genuine shooters using false ducks to shoot their real cousins were disgusted over the weekend jamm bore re: "won't fit" shit which the real ducks were quite upset over because if they had of known it was just a "wham no blam thank you maam" day they would have stayed home watching Donald Quack. The townsfolk are upset over the fact that on the prescribed bank robbing days, their kiddies were left empty handed. The leader of the local gang disappointed that he didn't get the bullet...in the chamber! Some red necks blue in the face saying they have a right to bear arms which were wrapped round several whom decided to go bear shooting. Otherwise the world would be overrun by bears stuck in rubbish bins which doesn't bear thinking about.

Deer shooters told this station that's the last time they'll trust a government that can't provide proper guns to maim and destroy constitutional game..." And isn't it just that folks? A bloody silly game. You disagree? Take a look at what one brave politician did in Australia re: gun dispersal. Not perfect but better than nothing. In a nutshell there will always be nuts. And yes responsible shooters do have a right...but right now in America 'responsible' wears a lot of misguided hats.

I'd rather wear one without a hole in it but that's just my misguided opinion off the top of my hat...umm, unholy head?

Anyway back to the end of the President's dream. "Jim you have the nation's gratitude for what you've done, shown people how misfits can alter discordant gun control."

"Well thank you Mr. President...my missus will be wrapped when i get home. She's gorgeous but she's a bit of a dreamer...worries about my dinner getting cold."




About the Writer

Bio...bioio...daylight come an i wanna go home. Come missa tele man tele me banana. A banana tele? Seriously would like to hook up with other comedy writers to engage.
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