I might need a bigger gun
by Anna-Maria Jung
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We told her how we’d been cowerin’ in the shadows and ruins for weeks. We’d thrown nearly our whole arsenal at the thing, tried every possible trick we could think of to buy just a few seconds to get past it to safer territory, but nothin’ worked. All our tryin’ seemed to do was get somebody killed.
She shook her head. “No,” she said. “No, I’m afraid that just won’t do. Got family that needs tendin’ to on the other side of this city and I ain’t lookin’ to disappoint ‘em.” Then she took a quick look around and pointed at Murphy’s shotgun. “You mind if I borrow that for a second?”
Murphy started laughin’. Hell, we all started laughin’, truth be told. Probably the first time since The Fall any of us had done so. Not her, though. She just stared him down real steely-like. “Sir,” she told him, “I promise you can have it back when I’m done.”
We all stopped laughin’ right about then.
When I close my eyes, I can still see her plain as day snatchin’ that shotgun out of Murphy’s hands and striding out into the street just a-darin’ that big metal bastard’s big ruby eye to spy her. And when it did, I tell you that woman did not tremble. Not one bit. She just aimed and fired right into it.
Bang.
By the time the ground stopped shaking and the dust cloud settled, she was gone off to wherever it was she was goin’, I guess. Murphy’s shotgun, though, was lying right there on the ground where she’d been standing.
Dangedest thing I ever saw.
Wear this shirt: when the odds are against you.
Don’t wear this shirt: if you, for one, welcome our metal overlords.
This shirt tells the world: “Dude, everyone knows that the flashing red bit is always the weak point.”
We call this color: Black Metal Boomstick
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