Weak

I was weak but I have the opportunity to show that I am strong. As I lie here, bleeding out in a ditch, I realise I probably could have spent my time better to get better. Well that’s exactly what I’m going to do. I crawled my ass out, leaving a trail of blood and sinew behind, that’s a problem but I’ll leave that for the doctors to figure out. Bum de dum, I’m out. And I feel better than ever as well.

Here I can fight with my bretheren and choose which side I want to pick. But I’m unsure how that will further my cause and bring down the hasshole who shot me and left me for dead. Dead, I should be dead how come I’m not. I’ve heard that being hit with a shotgun in my face and brain and torso and head are all poor places to be shot if you want to live. Fortunately I lived but I felt all of these bullets hit me, I really should be dead right now. Well everything clicked into place when I saw satan. No, not the mythological biblical deity but my personal satan. The dick who shot me…with a birdshot gun. The bastard wasn’t trying to kill me, he was trying to warn me. About him, and his birdshot gun. No matter, it was revenge time.

I raised my gun, with actual bullets instead of whatever soup he was shooting, and I cleared my throat loudly enough for him to hear me. Hear ye hear ye. I’m gonna shout to draw his attention. AHEM.

“Oh hey, how are you? Did you go to the hospital? I’m sorry again for what I did.” I think he noticed the gun.

“Time to die now, oink oink,” I shouted, forgetting he wasn’t a cop. Before he could open his mouth I fired and painted his entire back wall red. All’s well that ends well. My montage has ended and I have saved the city.