The gun in my hand filled me with a sense of power like I never felt before. A wicked, devilish smile showed on my face as I decided to take a walk through the suburban neighborhood. It was just what I needed to blow off a little steam. I just took care of my girlfriend and her ex-boyfriend who started it. Him and that fucking red car of his. A cop showed up out of nowhere and pointed a gun at me, but I was much more smarter than that stupid rookie. He didn't have a clue to what he was doing. I turned the gun on him while he still had it in his hand and made him blow his brains out. One bullet down. One less naughty person in the world.
It was quiet at first, but then some asshole came out shouting, "Hey! What the hell is all that noise?!"
He was already starting to annoy me. What the hell was he even talking about? I didn't hear anything. It would have been better if the dumb fuck had just stayed inside his house where it was safe. Now he was going to be punished. I quickly pointed the gun at the man who dared to question me, firing once and watching him paint a section of his house with his own blood, a giant splatter of red staining the white wall and brown door.
"Motherfucker", I murmured under my breath, lowering my arm and looking around for the next person who decided to piss me off. Everything and everyone seemed to piss me off now.
Continuing on my route, I saw another man putting a garbage can out on the curb in front of his house. As he went to pick up the other one and put it out, I felt my thick, dark eyebrows twitch with dramatic effect.
"Garbage day!" I shouted out loud.
The man, or Mr. Garbage, if you will, looked over at me, and before he could question me or why I said that, my itchy finger pulled back the trigger, allowing the gun to spew another bullet, piercing right through the garbage can and clean through the man's chest. It was a beautiful moment. So beautiful, I imagined the whole thing happening in slow motion as the man's body fell and hit the ground, garbage covering his body like dirt on a coffin.
I laughed at the man's misfortune, blowing smoke off the barrel as I continued walking through the neighborhood. I stopped walking for a second to allow a smile to linger on my face and looked at the gun in my hand, laughing again. My smile quickly melted into a bored frown, making myself look serious. I didn't know whether I was enjoying myself or simply letting the moment happen. I had only three bullets left now. Who would be the next naughty person to take a hit? I wondered. Not that it mattered to me. They were all naughty as far as I was concerned. Well, maybe not everybody.
A little girl came riding down the street on her bicycle and bumped into me by accident, obviously not paying attention to where she was going. She looked up at me and I looked down at her, noticing she had a red ribbon tied into her hair. The color of the ribbon should have set me off, but for some strange reason, it didn't.
"Excuse me, mister", she said politely.
"That's okay", I told her.
The little girl turned her bicycle around and continued riding down the street, looking back at me, but I didn't pursue her. She wasn't naughty like the others were. She was just a kid. Kids were okay, unless they were bullies.
I continued my stroll through the neighborhood, seeing a red car come driving down the road. What the hell was with all the red cars in this town? Did people have no other taste? No matter. I took care of the problem.
Laughing again, I aimed the gun at the blood-colored car and fired three times. The tires screeched as the car swerved and turned over onto its side, sliding across the asphalt and heading right towards me.
"Bingo!" I shouted triumphantly.
I took a step to my left just as the car came within inches of hitting me. The car flipped over once, then burst into flames. I turned away and continued down the street, leaving the bastard in the car to perish and die.
I couldn't have been no more than a mile away when I saw the cops blocking my way with their cars and pointing their guns at me. They told me to drop my weapon, but I laughed them off, having a much better idea in mind.
Laughing like a lunatic, I pointed the gun to the side of my head. I wasn't about to be taken alive. Instead of trying to stop me, the cops just stood there and told me not to do it. It wasn't worth it, one of them said, but I knew better. I knew it was better to do myself in and get away with it than be taken to jail. I pulled the trigger, hoping to hear a bullet come flying out of the barrel and pay my brain a visit before I did myself in, but the only thing I heard was a click. I frowned in disappointment. I should have felt pain, but there was nothing.
What was the problem? No more bullets.
Oh, well. That's what I get for being young and stupid. Now, if you'll excuse me, I have a mental hospital to escape from. Where am I going, you ask? Well, let's just say I have a present to give to a very naughty nun.
