I am going to kill you.

I am going to kill you.

Look right at the whites in my eyes and tell me if you think I am kidding? I told you; look really hard, do you think I am fucking kidding? Does it look like I am kidding? Believe me, friend, I am not kidding. I am totally and absolutely serious.

I am going to kill you.

Listen. That was the sound of my .45, it is unmistakable. You and I both know what it means, your time has come. Now that you are staring down the barrel of my gun, I will ask you one more time. Do you think I’m joking?

I am going to kill you.

I can see your life flash before my eyes, and believe me when I tell you that I do not care. When we are done here, friend, there will be no remorse and there will be no turning back. You will cease to exist and I will go on living. No remorse.

I am going to kill you.

The time is at hand. I feel the kickback from the first shot in my hand, it feels so good. It feels like I just came. Lucky for you I missed, just grazing your ear. I need to get my head straight, next time I won’t miss. That, my friend, I promise you. Your time is at hand. Say your prayers you miserable fuck.

I am going to kill you.

The next four shots fire in one fluid motion. Bang, Bang, Bang, Bang. I let the kick of the pistol force my shots up your torso. One in your pelvis, one in your stomach, one in your chest and one in your head. Little pieces of you are floating to the floor in slow motion. The remaining nine shots explode in short succession, going from your groin upwards again. The feeling is incredible. Orgasm. Ecstasy. Exhilaration.

It is done now.

I am watching you die. I told you that I was not kidding. You should have listened, I warned you. My gun is smoking, my breathing shallow and quick, my hands are shaking. Your breathing is finished. Back to the dust, my friend. I can see it in your eyes. Your time has come. The life has left you, there is no turning back now. It is done now.

I have killed you.

I look down at my watch, my hour is over. I push the button and the wire brings you near, to survey my destruction. I take off the clips, ball you up and throw you into the trash. I walk upstairs, turn in my range card and head for the door.

“Have a good time shootin down there, bub?” asks the man at the counter.
“Orgasmic,” I respond.
“Nothin like shootin a few targets to blow off some steam huh, bub?”
“I wasn’t shooting, my friend, I was killing.”