Wednesday, July 30, 2008

My chilled core warms considerably

To the James Broadnaxs of the world;

Smith & Wesson 442

I will not give you my life.
I will not give you my loved ones.
I will not give you my money.
I will not give you my cigarettes.
I will not give you my change.
I will not give you the time of day.

What will I give you?

If you're lucky; I'll give you 5 shots of 38 Special +P 125 Grain Silvertip.

If you're unlucky; I'll give you a lot more.

So I'd recommend you stop making excuses for your actions, before someone gives you some action right back.

UPDATE 7/4/12: Not that I expected anything different, but he laughed. I looked repeatedly for confirmation of his death or some schedule so I could know that this chapter was closed. Being Texas, I can only assume he is no longer burdening us with his existence. I sometimes wish I could have been there to witness his lethal injection, as grim as that sounds. I think I wanted to see if he truly didn't care until his last moments, or if the evil left him scared and alone with the consequences of listening to the whisper. Or maybe I just wanted to make sure this symbol of antipathy, hate, and ultimate indifference no longer shares my plane of existence... No... He may be gone, but his animus is not. It remains. The price of freedom is eternal vigilance. What a sour world we live in.

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