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alpharaposaI mentioned an idea for a talking gun on Twitter, and was asked to write something, even if just a scene or two. So, here you go! I really like both the gun and the protagonist in this scene. :)
“It's not every day somebody asks me to disenchant something,” I said to Rick, bemused. “What's wrong with it?”
The young man pulled a thickly wadded fleece out of his messenger bag. Muffled sounds came from within. He unwrapped it silently and presented it for examination.
“Oh, wonderful! It's so great to be out where I can see again!”
I blinked, taken aback. The item in question was a talking gun, a Desert Eagle with both a cross and a star of David carved in the grip. While I considered why it might have those, it cheerily continued the conversation without me.
“At least a blanket keeps me warm, and that's good, right? Keeps people happy. You know what they say! Oh, my, you're a handsome man, aren't you?”
“Mostly right,” I told it, resisting an urge to offer a hand to shake. It just sounded so human. “Do you have a name?” I asked.
“I've had a few over the years,” it said. I nodded my understanding. “The last guy who took me hunting called me Gabby.”
Gabby the gun. It fit, I suppose.
“It's been nothing but darkly brooding men for years, now. My first partner used to take me out shopping,” it said with a bit of a pout in its voice. “She knew how to accessorize. It's not like it's that important when they're fighting for their lives, I know, but sometimes I just like to wear something that looks good. I miss her. She was a great shot, even if I wasn't helping. Just bam! Right between the eyes or straight in the heart, every time.”
The gun began to reminisce about fighting off a zombie horde. I tuned it out for a moment to look at Rick. “She's obviously got some power to her. Unravelling part of the enchantment would probably destroy the rest.”
Rick gritted his teeth. “It never. Shuts. Up,” he said. “I can't work with this thing.”
I listened to the gun chatter about the importance of the right ammunition for destroying zombie heads for a moment.
“Tell you what,” I told the younger hunter. “Why don't we trade? I have extra things that you'd probably find useful, and I'd take her off your hands.”
“Sure,” Rick said. He began to wrap Gabby up in the blanket again.
“Hey! I was in the middle of a story! Rude young man!” The remaining complaints were soon muted by the thick fabric. I vowed to take the gun shopping in apology once Rick was finished and on his way.
“It's not every day somebody asks me to disenchant something,” I said to Rick, bemused. “What's wrong with it?”
The young man pulled a thickly wadded fleece out of his messenger bag. Muffled sounds came from within. He unwrapped it silently and presented it for examination.
“Oh, wonderful! It's so great to be out where I can see again!”
I blinked, taken aback. The item in question was a talking gun, a Desert Eagle with both a cross and a star of David carved in the grip. While I considered why it might have those, it cheerily continued the conversation without me.
“At least a blanket keeps me warm, and that's good, right? Keeps people happy. You know what they say! Oh, my, you're a handsome man, aren't you?”
“Mostly right,” I told it, resisting an urge to offer a hand to shake. It just sounded so human. “Do you have a name?” I asked.
“I've had a few over the years,” it said. I nodded my understanding. “The last guy who took me hunting called me Gabby.”
Gabby the gun. It fit, I suppose.
“It's been nothing but darkly brooding men for years, now. My first partner used to take me out shopping,” it said with a bit of a pout in its voice. “She knew how to accessorize. It's not like it's that important when they're fighting for their lives, I know, but sometimes I just like to wear something that looks good. I miss her. She was a great shot, even if I wasn't helping. Just bam! Right between the eyes or straight in the heart, every time.”
The gun began to reminisce about fighting off a zombie horde. I tuned it out for a moment to look at Rick. “She's obviously got some power to her. Unravelling part of the enchantment would probably destroy the rest.”
Rick gritted his teeth. “It never. Shuts. Up,” he said. “I can't work with this thing.”
I listened to the gun chatter about the importance of the right ammunition for destroying zombie heads for a moment.
“Tell you what,” I told the younger hunter. “Why don't we trade? I have extra things that you'd probably find useful, and I'd take her off your hands.”
“Sure,” Rick said. He began to wrap Gabby up in the blanket again.
“Hey! I was in the middle of a story! Rude young man!” The remaining complaints were soon muted by the thick fabric. I vowed to take the gun shopping in apology once Rick was finished and on his way.
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Date: 2015-11-02 10:01 pm (UTC)*buys Gabby a nice pearl inlay for her grip*
Threatening her with disenchantment! Murderous fellow. Hmph!
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Date: 2015-11-05 06:06 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2015-11-03 12:37 am (UTC)