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Stop the Killing
I went on a road trip last year in my pickup truck with nothing but a shotgun, a case of whiskey and my dog Martin. Martin drank all the whiskey but I did all the killing. Well, Martin did some retrieving, too.
We were in the desert and there was a guy in a white robe roaming its barren surface. He had wings and a halo, but he wasn't carrying any harp. I immediately pinpointed him as an imposter. Forsake our Lord, will he? I shot him dead. Then I realized he did have a harp. Martin retrieved him anyway, and now we had some music to play to pass away the time.
A few hundred miles later we were in desperate need of fuel. Luckily, we came upon a little convenient store that sold gasoline in fourteen-gallon containers. The cheapskate behind the counter was demanding FIVE FRIGGIN' DOLLARS per container. I told him I was going to go out to my truck and grab a shotgun so that I could shoot him. He gave me a funny look, and that pissed me off more so I said "Screw the gun" and I strangled him right there with my bare hands. Martin came running. He told me he was an undercover cop and that I was under arrest.
Martin's a comedian
like that.
© 1997 kyle
t.