He said he had a gun. I didn’t know what to do. There was an emergency button under the cash register. I pushed it. I stalled the robber. The police came. He was arrested. I’m afraid he’s going to get out and kill me.
guns are dangerous. they kill ppl. they are the cause of most accidental deaths in households. guns are instruments of evil. their existence is solely for the purpose of injuring or taking a life. guns should not be allowed to the public. they should be outlawed. they cause more harm than they ever will good.
I shot Andy Warhol. Or at least, I dreamt I did. Or maybe I just dreamt I was Valerie Solanas. Or maybe I dreamt I was that actress, whatever-her-name, playing Valerie Solanas in the film “I Shot Andy Warhol.” Actually, I never dreamt any of that – I just associate guns with Andy Warhol, since he got shot.
It went off. Just like that. I didn’t know what to do, what to say. I mean, he just had that knife pointed at me. And there I was. Gun. Gun. Gun. It was sitting in the drawer. “A vintage Winchester!” he’d declared to me on the day he bought it, “I’ll just put it right here.” And there it sat in the drawer.
last night, i felt like i wanted to have a gun here to protect me. glad i didn’t, i slept okay without it. i have such bad feelings about a house with a gun. guns don’t kill. gungungun gung un. not a lot to say about this one.
violence is the rooth to everything evil. never buy a gun. never touch one. live free of hate, dont think of the past it will destroy you. i dont want to go down that road.
It was a simple object. Yet so cruel.
One twitch of the finger, that was all it took. To cause an explosion, a tear, an end.
One twitch, one object.
Cold, cold metal, with no feeling, and yet it created so much hurt. Something so wrong, yet so, so right in his hand.
He pointed it at me and yelled, “Stop, I’m not afraid to shoot.” I didn’t believe him. Was it only yestereday that he had said he loved me and would protect me no matter what? I was so scared. I had no idea what to do. Was he insane?
There are a couple things you can do with a gun in the right situation. You can put it in a bucket of water, thus creating a bucket with a gun in it. You can also throw it like a boomerang. *WARNING: Guns are not boomerangs and will not come back. They may also fire when landing, and they are heavy.*
Maybe if I had understood a little bit better, all of this wouldn’t be happening. I’ve passed it off as a dream before. I’ve denied it being me. But deep inside, I know what I have done. I know what I have failed to do. The blood won’t wash off my hands.
There was a deafening bang and the body hit the floor. blood seaped from the single wound in his temple. the room seemed to darken and a wolves howl pierced the air. he was dead. my hand shook violently and i swallowed back my vomit.. what had i done.. i ran from the room and glinting in the moonlight was the gun. the evil gun.
Janie had a gun. Or so we thought. She really didn’t, it was just for fun. They spit images at you faster than her faux bullets. No noise, so just duck when they open their mouths. Times running short, and your legs are worse for the wear. Annie, grab your gun since Janie has been fucking with us this whole time. Don’t wait for the riots in the street, just get it together & get ready to give it up. Realize life takes no prisoners & this gun’s for you.
And oh, it was a gunshot to the heart. She fell like a cannon after that low-slung blow, spitting tire-skid ash from her weakening lungs, her hands clenched forever around a sweat-slicked holster, blonde hair like cobwebs across cold freckled cheeks.
He spat on her body as he walked away, boots sounding like the end on the gravel-pitted road.
killing people, killing for peace is like fucking for virginity. please have a life in peace with music!I really realy want make my self a cozy cob this year!
I don’t like guns. I really don’t like a bb gun. They are dangerous. They are not toys. Guns scare me. Why do people like to use guns? What is it about a gun that men think they are so macho? I hate guns. I wish guns did not exist. stop the guns.
Through the gun, the barrel and the ammunition, I know clarity is received and no doubt, endured, there will be anew in this era, this time and I welcome with open arms as I am quite excited to be in the presence of such a change. I am content, looking down, I am no doubt, fulfilled.
Guns are meant to kill things. They’re fun, they’re empowering, but they’re weapons. You see the way that hollow point took that pumpkin to pieces? That could have been your skull. If you think that’s something necessary to do, you have a very, very small penis.
A good weight in your hand. Comfortable. Everything you hold has a weight, whether it’s a feather or a hammer. There’s good weights and bad weights, and none of it actually has to do with the weight of what you’re holding. Some people are comfortable with the weight of a hammer, but the best weight in your hand…always a gun.
That’s what it feels like to be let down. Not even a bullet through the heart, more like a gun in my stomach, weighing it down to the ground. Twice this month I’ve had this feeling, and it never feels any better.
cock it and pull the trigger. don’t aim, don’t look, just feel. what will it hit, how will it feel.. it’s better to not know. imagine the gun as the tool to your life, a key rather.
there’s a gun in that velvet revolver…no not really. the only band that should ever be able to have the word “velvet” in their name should be the VELVET UNDERGROUND. sippin tea on a Saturday brunch, smoking purple stuff and leaving a chore undone and listening to this lovely collaboration makes you want to walk up the Bowery and get high.
people get shut from guns,they’ll die,so things will end,life comes to an end,and suddenly someone that u loved is not here anymore,and u have to live with it
Guns are bad unless it’s a squirt Gun or a paint ball gun. I dont like gun shots. They remind me of bad movies wig wars and stuff. It’s sad but potato guns are totally okay. As well as shirt guns or marshmellow guns. Why do they make guns that shoot households things anyways? Or food at that? Idaknow.
the gun was loaded but she couldn’t see whether or not the safety was one. Would he shoot? That was the essential question. Why on earth was she thinking in teacher-jargon now? Seems like an unimportant thing to focus on right now.
The Ferg saw something in the distance, out the window. It lept at the exact moment my cell was opened by six white-clad A level team members of Galation Body of Ruling Beings. The stares. I yelled FarQ! as the Ferg and I sailed, with the glitter and glue gun, straight out the flippin’ window. It was joy to escape!
I’ve never held one or wish to hold one. I wish the rest of the people in the world were like me. Then life would be a lot better. We’d all be happier. Sometimes we live in fear of the thing called a gun. In fear of what it can do to us or perhaps, it is more of a fear of what we can do with it. Without guns life would be simpler. We’d all be happier.
I managed to whump one leg over the Ferg. I let it eat a little of the glitter. The good Draegos knows, no one eve died from consuming a little glitter. Well, almost no one. The Ferg didn’t seem to mind my attempt to ride it. I urged it toward the open window, the glue gun grasped tightly in my hand. Snick, snick, snick went the camera. I turned and smiles for the droggie blurgs who would be watching. Sucka! If only you had glitter, if only you had access to a massive, winged Ferg who could and probably would take you to your escape from the Galation Body of Ruling Beings.
I looked up at the camera. Snick, snick, snick it went recording our every move. Meanwhile the Ferg was snuffling happily… rubbing up against me and my glitter clad jumpsuit. I attempted to keep the still warm glue gun away from it’s head and body. Unwanted contacted with a hot glue gun is never good for fur and feathered creatures.
I had a star in my pocket. It was really meant to be used in case of an emergency. They are very hard to come by, and even more difficult to figure out how to use but this was it. I have had it with the new world order. I can’t live in a world that doesn’t allow glitter and glue to mate. I whumped again to the Ferg near by. It lifted it’s head. This time I proffered the glitter. A second later my entire body was slammed against the wall… the Galation Body of Ruling Beings would have been horrified. I was having full frontal contact with the Ferg.
I made a decision. FarQ it. I would jump the nearby Ferg, and be damn the Galation Body of Ruling Beings. Let them videocast my escape. It would be a pantheon of much inspiration to every trapped bloog everywhere. I was suddenly filled with rage over our new world order predicament.
The gun was still in my hand, but it and the glitter were useless against the camera. How was I going to get up there and capture the camera and destroy it. I didn’t want to coerce the Ferg inot the room and have my escape videocast immediatedly to the Galation Body of Ruling Beings. I pondered a moment, the glue gun in my hand. I hate the new world order.
The one thing that haunts my mom’s life the most probably. The one thing that ruined my grandpa’s life so much that he could never speak of it again.
He said he had a gun. I didn’t know what to do. There was an emergency button under the cash register. I pushed it. I stalled the robber. The police came. He was arrested. I’m afraid he’s going to get out and kill me.
guns are dangerous. they kill ppl. they are the cause of most accidental deaths in households. guns are instruments of evil. their existence is solely for the purpose of injuring or taking a life. guns should not be allowed to the public. they should be outlawed. they cause more harm than they ever will good.
I shot Andy Warhol. Or at least, I dreamt I did. Or maybe I just dreamt I was Valerie Solanas. Or maybe I dreamt I was that actress, whatever-her-name, playing Valerie Solanas in the film “I Shot Andy Warhol.” Actually, I never dreamt any of that – I just associate guns with Andy Warhol, since he got shot.
It went off. Just like that. I didn’t know what to do, what to say. I mean, he just had that knife pointed at me. And there I was. Gun. Gun. Gun. It was sitting in the drawer. “A vintage Winchester!” he’d declared to me on the day he bought it, “I’ll just put it right here.” And there it sat in the drawer.
Guns. Chaos. Disaster.
here’s a question:
Why?
The Worst Thing That has ever been invented
last night, i felt like i wanted to have a gun here to protect me. glad i didn’t, i slept okay without it. i have such bad feelings about a house with a gun. guns don’t kill. gungungun gung un. not a lot to say about this one.
violence is the rooth to everything evil. never buy a gun. never touch one. live free of hate, dont think of the past it will destroy you. i dont want to go down that road.
It was a simple object. Yet so cruel.
One twitch of the finger, that was all it took. To cause an explosion, a tear, an end.
One twitch, one object.
Cold, cold metal, with no feeling, and yet it created so much hurt. Something so wrong, yet so, so right in his hand.
He pointed it at me and yelled, “Stop, I’m not afraid to shoot.” I didn’t believe him. Was it only yestereday that he had said he loved me and would protect me no matter what? I was so scared. I had no idea what to do. Was he insane?
There are a couple things you can do with a gun in the right situation. You can put it in a bucket of water, thus creating a bucket with a gun in it. You can also throw it like a boomerang. *WARNING: Guns are not boomerangs and will not come back. They may also fire when landing, and they are heavy.*
When I say ‘Shotgun,’ you say “Wedding.”
gun gum gun gum
bubble bubble bubble
chirp chirp
shard
Maybe if I had understood a little bit better, all of this wouldn’t be happening. I’ve passed it off as a dream before. I’ve denied it being me. But deep inside, I know what I have done. I know what I have failed to do. The blood won’t wash off my hands.
There was a deafening bang and the body hit the floor. blood seaped from the single wound in his temple. the room seemed to darken and a wolves howl pierced the air. he was dead. my hand shook violently and i swallowed back my vomit.. what had i done.. i ran from the room and glinting in the moonlight was the gun. the evil gun.
“Drop your weapon.”
She did. She had no weapons around him. He had scrubbed all her shields away with that intimacy, that damn sentimental side that rubbed her raw.
His eyes were quick-flitting, calculating. “On the ground. Hands behind your head.”
That she wouldn’t do. She stepped closer instead, lunging with one quick move, crushed him close to her chest.
Janie had a gun. Or so we thought. She really didn’t, it was just for fun. They spit images at you faster than her faux bullets. No noise, so just duck when they open their mouths. Times running short, and your legs are worse for the wear. Annie, grab your gun since Janie has been fucking with us this whole time. Don’t wait for the riots in the street, just get it together & get ready to give it up. Realize life takes no prisoners & this gun’s for you.
And oh, it was a gunshot to the heart. She fell like a cannon after that low-slung blow, spitting tire-skid ash from her weakening lungs, her hands clenched forever around a sweat-slicked holster, blonde hair like cobwebs across cold freckled cheeks.
He spat on her body as he walked away, boots sounding like the end on the gravel-pitted road.
She never was quite fast enough for him anyway.
killing people, killing for peace is like fucking for virginity. please have a life in peace with music!I really realy want make my self a cozy cob this year!
I don’t like guns. I really don’t like a bb gun. They are dangerous. They are not toys. Guns scare me. Why do people like to use guns? What is it about a gun that men think they are so macho? I hate guns. I wish guns did not exist. stop the guns.
Through the gun, the barrel and the ammunition, I know clarity is received and no doubt, endured, there will be anew in this era, this time and I welcome with open arms as I am quite excited to be in the presence of such a change. I am content, looking down, I am no doubt, fulfilled.
Guns are meant to kill things. They’re fun, they’re empowering, but they’re weapons. You see the way that hollow point took that pumpkin to pieces? That could have been your skull. If you think that’s something necessary to do, you have a very, very small penis.
A good weight in your hand. Comfortable. Everything you hold has a weight, whether it’s a feather or a hammer. There’s good weights and bad weights, and none of it actually has to do with the weight of what you’re holding. Some people are comfortable with the weight of a hammer, but the best weight in your hand…always a gun.
That’s what it feels like to be let down. Not even a bullet through the heart, more like a gun in my stomach, weighing it down to the ground. Twice this month I’ve had this feeling, and it never feels any better.
cock it and pull the trigger. don’t aim, don’t look, just feel. what will it hit, how will it feel.. it’s better to not know. imagine the gun as the tool to your life, a key rather.
there’s a gun in that velvet revolver…no not really. the only band that should ever be able to have the word “velvet” in their name should be the VELVET UNDERGROUND. sippin tea on a Saturday brunch, smoking purple stuff and leaving a chore undone and listening to this lovely collaboration makes you want to walk up the Bowery and get high.
I first shot a .22 9 shot revolver when I was 8 years old. I loved it.
people get shut from guns,they’ll die,so things will end,life comes to an end,and suddenly someone that u loved is not here anymore,and u have to live with it
She was like a smoking gun, with hips like a bell and a voice just as sweet. That girl was Trouble- his favorite kind of trouble: the delicious kind.
Guns are bad unless it’s a squirt Gun or a paint ball gun. I dont like gun shots. They remind me of bad movies wig wars and stuff. It’s sad but potato guns are totally okay. As well as shirt guns or marshmellow guns. Why do they make guns that shoot households things anyways? Or food at that? Idaknow.
the gun was loaded but she couldn’t see whether or not the safety was one. Would he shoot? That was the essential question. Why on earth was she thinking in teacher-jargon now? Seems like an unimportant thing to focus on right now.
The Ferg saw something in the distance, out the window. It lept at the exact moment my cell was opened by six white-clad A level team members of Galation Body of Ruling Beings. The stares. I yelled FarQ! as the Ferg and I sailed, with the glitter and glue gun, straight out the flippin’ window. It was joy to escape!
I’ve never held one or wish to hold one. I wish the rest of the people in the world were like me. Then life would be a lot better. We’d all be happier. Sometimes we live in fear of the thing called a gun. In fear of what it can do to us or perhaps, it is more of a fear of what we can do with it. Without guns life would be simpler. We’d all be happier.
I managed to whump one leg over the Ferg. I let it eat a little of the glitter. The good Draegos knows, no one eve died from consuming a little glitter. Well, almost no one. The Ferg didn’t seem to mind my attempt to ride it. I urged it toward the open window, the glue gun grasped tightly in my hand. Snick, snick, snick went the camera. I turned and smiles for the droggie blurgs who would be watching. Sucka! If only you had glitter, if only you had access to a massive, winged Ferg who could and probably would take you to your escape from the Galation Body of Ruling Beings.
I looked up at the camera. Snick, snick, snick it went recording our every move. Meanwhile the Ferg was snuffling happily… rubbing up against me and my glitter clad jumpsuit. I attempted to keep the still warm glue gun away from it’s head and body. Unwanted contacted with a hot glue gun is never good for fur and feathered creatures.
The nozzle isn’t sniffing
The trigger isn’t wagging
It’s little finger
No, no, Don’t be like that ever.
Never give a boy a gun.
I had a star in my pocket. It was really meant to be used in case of an emergency. They are very hard to come by, and even more difficult to figure out how to use but this was it. I have had it with the new world order. I can’t live in a world that doesn’t allow glitter and glue to mate. I whumped again to the Ferg near by. It lifted it’s head. This time I proffered the glitter. A second later my entire body was slammed against the wall… the Galation Body of Ruling Beings would have been horrified. I was having full frontal contact with the Ferg.
I made a decision. FarQ it. I would jump the nearby Ferg, and be damn the Galation Body of Ruling Beings. Let them videocast my escape. It would be a pantheon of much inspiration to every trapped bloog everywhere. I was suddenly filled with rage over our new world order predicament.
The gun was still in my hand, but it and the glitter were useless against the camera. How was I going to get up there and capture the camera and destroy it. I didn’t want to coerce the Ferg inot the room and have my escape videocast immediatedly to the Galation Body of Ruling Beings. I pondered a moment, the glue gun in my hand. I hate the new world order.