Search This Blog

Tuesday, August 21, 2007

Gun lottery

Our soldier, whose name (Mocz) I find out later, when it's too late to make a difference, took the bag round the other passengers. Bêbe first: she held out her hand, but Mocz said, "no, you lucky dip." This in English, so for my benefit. Bêbe, with a pissed-off look, put her hand in the bag and pulled out a nasty looking poky penis of a gun - if I knew about guns I'd say it was a Luger, but I don't so I won't.

Fusel got a blunt little revolver, and then Mocz was off round the other passengers, who were variously timid or defiant when blindly selecting.

I said to to Fusel that I didn't know how to use a gun (it's hot in my hand, and I don't know whether the safety is on or off, or whether it's got a safety).

Fusel took a moment, clicking through the chambers of his revolver, and said, "You learn quick, friend, you're a soldier now."

Thanks a fucking bunch, I thought, boy-soldier (Mocz) has already let me in on that promotion.

Then Ginger came over and said, in a perfect English accent, "May I sit here? It is a chair that's open?"

I looked up, surprised, my mouth open, gun in hand, and then said yes, that's ok, the chair is open.

2 comments:

  1. Anonymous1:48 am

    (Mocz) maybe sounds like hacking up phlem?

    ReplyDelete

Say what you want to say, I'm watching you