So, I've been watching the Torchwood episodes again. (Though completely out of order for some reason.) This one popped into my head an hour or so ago while in the middle of watching Across the Universe. Hope you enjoy it!
HAPPINESS IS A WARM GUN
When I feel my fingers on your trigger.
Oh, don't you know nobody can do me no harm,
Because happiness is a warm, yes it is, gun.
Owen Harper looked down at the empty bottle of beer on Gwen's desk and sighed. He hated being one of the walking dead. He'd lost the ability to do three of his favorite things: eat, drink (due to the fact that his digestive system no longer was active) and have sex (due to the fact that his blood was no longer working and therefore could not find it was to his lower areas). He was nothing more than a shell. A shell that couldn't heal and therefore was constantly receiving concerned glances from his team while they were out on missions.
Owen Harper had even started to hate his job as the Torchwood doctor. The team rarely was injured seriously so he was generally left to administer autopsies. He would look down at his patients with envy. The lucky bastards could die and he was stuck in between the two words. He wasn't yet dead and he couldn't do any of the things that truly classified him as being alive.
Lately there was only thing that brought him true joy. The feel of his gun in his hand was only of the only things that kept him from just blowing himself up or having someone decapitate him or something else along those lines. He had complete control over his gun, which was more than he could say of his life, or therefore lack of. Owen loved how he could slowly feel the metal grow warm, though not as warm as before his death, in his touch. He loved how he had perfected his shot and could now shoot an alien right in the center of the forehead (or foreheads depending on the alien). He loved that he could save the life of another human and keep the alien destruction to a minimum. He loved the sound of the bullet being fired and the slight jolt after. Happiness was nothing other than a warm gun in the mind of Dr. Owen Harper.
As always, I would love to hear your opinion on this and constructive criticism is more than welcome.