disarm

“I’m no saint. I don’t know where I
fit in or if I’m even supposed to be
here.
But I know that this bullet fits in
this chamber. And I know they’ll
try to run if they see me.
But unless they’re a comic book
character, they’re done. At 4000 feet
per second, it’s over in less than a
blink of an eye. Maybe I’ll find that
if I can make enough room in this
world, the outcasts like me will find
our own place in it. But there’s
never enough room. Science
jumps to defend Darwin, but then
spits in his face by eliminating the
‘survival of the fittest’ with its
latest pill. I don’t know who I’m
working for, but I’m pretty sure
Darwin would give me a pat on the
back for this. Or not; I think I
remember reading that he was a
pretty ornery guy. Whatever. The
killer in me will get the killer in
you. That’s the point I’m getting
at here. Then it’s over, and
maybe, just maybe, there’s enough
room for me to step in and sit
down for a while.”

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