When You’ve Begun To Think Like A Gun

Below you will find the results of my having challenged myself for a number of days to write a short story with a beginning and middle and an end inside of 30 minutes. Here is what I came up with. I hope you like it.

The longer the phone call went on, the weaker he sounded. That was fun. He answered the phone playing a character. Maybe Billy Bats in Goodfeallas. 10 minutes later, he was begging to hang up. To get off the line. Anything.

“You asked the girl if museum employees get to carry guns?” I mentioned.

“Well, I was curious. What with all the shit…”

“You asked her four times. Four times you asked if she carried a gun. Why’d you ask four times?”

Silence on the line. I could practically feel the ache forming in the back of his throat.

“Four times, you asked her about guns. Why is that?”

He tried a few different approaches: he was hard of hearing; he could hear fine, but he couldn’t believe what he was hearing; he forgot.

His Wiseguy routine was a load of shit in his pants by that point.

“You went into a children’s museum, which is bad enough…”

”I was with my niece.”

”Do you talk about guns with your niece?”

He didn’t answer.

“You asked the lady at the museum, four times, if she carried a gun – this is front of a room full of children – and you haven’t given a satisfactory answer as to why. I think you were playing tough guy. Maybe your dick don’t work, so you gotta do this tough guy shit some other way. Either way, you shot off your mouth about guns in a children’s museum. Come by the station tomorrow, live and in person. We’re gonna have a talk.”

I could hear him breathing. My greatest hope in the world would be that he would have to explain this to his wife.

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