Shooting the Shit

*BLAM*

“What do you think dude?”

“About what,” I ask without looking up, continuing to load my next clip.

“My new shoulder holster dude. What do you think?”

I look up for just a second, just long enough to satisfy him so he'll shut the fuck up. “Looks Pimp bro'.”

“Does it look good? Do I look like a mafia-ass motherfucker?”

“Yeah, it looks good. I like it.”

*BLAM*

I can smell the leftover burrito I tried to eat earlier starting to rot as it rests on the rock where I left it. It's a hot day. The sun sits like a sumo in the middle of the blue sky daring any force to challenge it. We're out in in the middle of nowhere, some Red-neck playground, doing a little target shooting. It's really just an excuse to get the fuck out of dodge, talk shit, and drink beer. Shooting is an afterthought.

*BLAM*

“So what do you think?”

“Dude, I already told you, you look Pimp.”

“No, about tonight. You think I'm finally gonna fuck K____?”

I spit on my Desert Eagle and start rubbing the length of her body, it was a gift to myself last year. I finally managed to shake the monkey off my back and dump R_____. As a reward I bought myself this gun..a 0.40 caliber, compact model. Perfect for concealment. Replace one bad fucking bitch with another right?

“Joey, I think your chances are good. Serious. She wants you. Can't you tell, Fuck?!”

Joey laughs as he raises his Beretta and takes aim. “Fuckin-A bro, I know it....”

*BLAM*

“Everytime I'm around that bitch I can smell it bro'. She's in fucking heat – Shit did you see that shot?”

I stand up to get a better look. Joey has blown up the red spray can he had decided to shoot that had been sitting in his trunk for the past 3 months. Dead on. Red paint blankets the ground for five feet behind it.

“Looks kinda like blood dude,” I say in admiration.