Jessica approaches the trailer with the confidence of a crack head.
“JAWWWEESSSHIIIIIEEE IM BAAAAAAAACCCK!”
The front door bursts from its seams…boot first. Cobra emerges from the weed smoke, shotgun glistening in the sun. He draws on his filter less Marlboro 100 and let’s out a cloud of acrid smoke.
“I thought I told you, Jessica….this buck ain’t broken, dood.”
Jessica screams “I LOVE YOU JAAWWWSHIE WE WERE MENT TO BE TO-“
“I’ve got some medication for you, Jessica. The only medication that’ll help you.”
Cobra loads a shell.
“16 grams of saltpeter…”
Cobra loads another shell.
“…and 16 grams of sulfur…”
He snaps the shotgun with one hand like that fucking sick move in Terminator 2.
“…and a touch of charcoal should do the trick. It’s a dank medication combo, Jessica. I call it ‘The Final Cobra.’”
Cobra aims with the speed of a window licker’s determination and fires, blowing Jessica’s entire head off into tiny, bulbous shards. As the smoke clears from the barrel, Joshua spits out his chew and chuckles.
“I’m your huckleberry.”
The wind blows through his few remaining hairs and the sun bathes him in a glorious light. Today? Jessica. Tomorrow? He’s in the negatives. You can’t solve every problem with a shotgun, but it is what it is, youtube.
It is what it is.
