Main image
10th July
2012
posted by amber

Pink Gun

The rifle was pink, the girl toting it was tiny, her truck was camouflage and enormous. As she jumped down what had to be five feet from the cab, the muzzle didn’t once waver from its aim at the centre of my chest.

I raised both hands and slowly stepped back from the body on the road.

“Mister, my dog better be okay,” she said.

The dog was tiny. And pink. It panted with shallow breaths, immobile in front of my car. She knelt beside it, one hand on the fluffy body, not once taking her eyes off me.

“I’m sorry, miss. It just ran out in front of me. Is this your house?”

The house was rusty metal, with a tarp on the roof. An ancient, flat-tired travel trailer.

“No way could she get out of that house by herself.”

We both looked toward the screen door banging in the wind.

“No one there to let her out?”

“Booger! You’d better not be in there!” she screeched.

“Do you want me to go check? Or would you rather I called your vet? I’ve got a cell phone.” I reached toward my pocket.

“Keep your hands where I can see them. I don’t think she’s that bad. There isn’t even any blood.”

“Are you sure she’s still breathing? I hit her pretty hard and she’s so small.”

Still the girl’s attention on me didn’t waver, but when she felt the dog’s chest there was no movement, as I’d expected. “Susan! Susan!” she cried, then snatched the limp body up and buried her face in the pink fur.

A moment later she looked up at me, eyes blurred with tears. “Can you help her?” Then she saw my gun. Her own lay forgotten at her side.

“Taffy,” I said, marveling again at the girl having a dog’s name and her dog named Susan, “this is a message for Booger. He’d better pay my boss what he owes him.” And I shot her through her pink cowboy boot.

This is one of the most popular stories from my year of Story 365.

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