February 1990: Lesson number fifty billion and one

"Shawn, you're not holding it right."

"But Dad, we've been out here for hours, can I just shoot a can already?"

"Not until you learn how to hold it properly."

"But Dad, come on…"

"Shawn!"


His blood pounded through his ears, he could almost feel every beat of his heart.

"Shawn, come on, you know me…"

The gun sat perfectly in his hands, a comforting familiar weight. Even though his fingers were slick with blood he knew he had a faultless hold. After all he had been taught by one of Santa Barbara's finest.


"Can I at least watch you shoot something?"

"No."

"Why not? Don't you think you'll be able to hit the cans?"

"Able to hit th-! Shawn I am a police officer, with the right equipment I could hit those cans from twenty yards away!"

"Then why won't you show me? Pleeeassseeee?"

"No."

"Why not?"

"Because I said no!"

"Don't have to be so grumpy about it…"


It wasn't a challenge really, point blank range they called it. There was no way Shawn could miss…


"Look son, there's another thing you should remember before you shoot that weapon..."

"Another thing, what is that now, like fifty billion?"

"Har-har kid. This is important."

"That's what you said about the other fifty billion!"

"I know, and those other things could save your life one day. But this…this is the cardinal rule, this is something you can never forget."

"So…what is it then?"

"You should never shoot a gun in anger."


He was talking now, giving reasons, for everything. He didn't seem scared, his voice wasn't wavering. He thought he could justify it, like it would make it better somehow, to know why…


"Why?"

"What do you mean 'why?'!"

"Well I just mean…what does it matter? As long as you hit the target, right?"

"It matters when the target is another person Shawn! It matters when your job depends on you keeping a level head!"

"But that is the coolest part of your job, right? To shoot the bad guys?"

"What the hell gave you that idea?"

"….Cop shows?"

"Cop shows? What? Have you even been list-…. You know what, never mind! And no Shawn, the 'coolest' part of my job is not to shoot the bad guys. The coolest part of my job is to catch the bad guys and bring them to justice!"

"But what happens if they get off?"

"What?"

"Well…I was in the station the other day and I heard Uncle Lou talking about some bast…

"Shawn!"

"What, I was just going to say bast-ket case? Anyway Uncle Lou said he got off lightly because he pled temporary insanity, even though they all knew he was sane when he did it. That doesn't seem very fair to me?"

"Yeah well… sometimes life isn't fair. It happens, but once we catch the bad guys, it's not up to us kiddo."


He was holding a knife in one of his raised hands. He and Shawn both knew it would do him no good. Everyone knew you never brought a knife to a gun fight.

Besides it was clear they would show up any minute now…the cavalry…

But what was really the point, it wasn't like there was much they could do? It was already over, the bad guy was caught, nothing else to be done…


"But isn't that the whole point of catching the bad guys, to make sure they get what they deserve?"

"Yes…and no. The one thing you've got to believe, is that the system works Shawn. Eventually the bad guys will get punished, maybe not when you catch them, but someday. And your job then is to ensure you're there see that they do, by not making stupid mistakes. I've seen my share of good men, that forgot that…They face the bad guys, gun in hand, and they let the anger take them over for a second…and that second ends up ruining their whole lives…"


There it was, the sirens, the boys in blue.

"We both know how this is going to end son, so how about I just drop my knife, and you put down the gun."

Before, Shawn might have taken the way out. He would have made a quip, taken the knife, and neutralised the threat, neutralised a real need for the gun.

Now, Shawn didn't say anything, just watched him, gun steady, and he made no move to let go of the knife.

Shawn didn't want him to let go.


"Kind of like when Batman punches the Joker and he falls into that vat of acid, right?"

"What-that doesn't even make sense! See, this is why you shouldn't read comic books!"

"But I didn't, I saw it in the movie! And it is kind of like that. Batman got angry, punches a bad guy, and creates the Joker who ends up becoming a worse psycho, with really bad hair!"

"Shawn I honestly don't even know where you get this stuff…."


"This is kind of ironic, you know…" he was talking again, but Shawn wasn't really listening, Shawn never really listened…

His head was always filled with so many things, jumbled together.

He never really seemed to focus, unless he was trying to figure something out.

And right then he didn't want to figure it out.

So instead Shawn concentrated on the gun in his hands, and his finger resting on the trigger.

And then he began to laugh

It might have been hysteria, or fear, or maybe, more likely, he just thought this was all one big joke.

It didn't really matter…

They were going to be here any second, Shawn could hear them coming.

They were going to get out their own guns, he was going to drop the knife, unresisting, and they were going to cuff him and take him away, still laughing…


"Look, will you just promise me one thing kid? Promise me that you will never shoot a gun in anger?"

"I promise…unless Mrs Bates tries to ruffle my hair again…"

"Shawn!"
"Okay, okay! I promise Dad, I will never shoot a gun in anger."


Shawn's blood was pounding even faster

He didn't deserve to go easily, he didn't deserve to spend the rest of his days in a cosy jail cell, he didn't deserve the dignity of life

Shawn pointed the gun with purpose now, and he didn't notice, or maybe he did but he thought that was funny too…

Shawn adjusted his grip slightly, the blood was making it slippery, and he had to be perfect. At least this one time, Shawn had to make sure everything was exactly right…


"Now can I take a shot?"

"You're still not holding it right!"

"But Daaaadddddd!"


A/N: Is this in fact a story about the aftermath of Santabarbara Town, or something else entirely, like a story about a cereal killer...wait that doesn't sound right...cireal killer? Leastways drop me a line, review = ). If this were to be a story, it would be much funnier, though I'm not really sure how anything can be more funny than my attempt to write...BAHAHAHAHAHA!