monday gunday.

yup-yuuup, duders.
me and the cucch got it poppin' with a pile of spent shells
and a whole bunch of holes in a whole bunch of targets.
check the firearmy activational teleport:

yeah!
that's what's up!
that pistol in the capable hands of my most enduring ace numero uno ninja
holds ALL the bullets.
no,
for realsies, though:

c'mon!
19 of those 9mm bullets in one magazine (you'd call it a clip, huh?)
that's enough to take out all my friends, five times in a row.
awwwwwwwwww.
oh, stop it.
i'm not that good a shot.
anyway,
despite the capacity for more that that parabellum popper has got,
go ahead and check out the difference between that junior master blaster
and the big boy overlord of all blaster mastery:

the red is for the blood in my arm,
the black is for the gun in my palm,
and the green is for the tram.....
uh-huh.
.45 caliber buckets of lead.
that's dope.

yeah, sure those bullets are bigger,
but that reverse colorway ladybug doesn't seem to care at all, y'all.
me and my main mango getting brotherly with the family togetherness.
we even have the same gun,
in pro-rated graduating ever-ascending size and shape.
big and bigger, better than ever, and as always, inclined towards more.....
uh-huh.
a Perfect Fall Day was what we activated,
and that was way before the day even started.
and when it did?
it started with a literal and figurative bang.
and then we kicked it up another 'nother level,
and took it to eleven.
w'sup then?
*
and i'm on my own again,
again.
the cucch is off to points unknown,
the spurious, injurious, furious female who haunts these halls is in connecticut,
(water finds it's own level)
and the corridors of this castle are echoing with emptiness.
it's just me and olive the dog,
and she barely counts.
neighbors,
the Folk Life & Liberty Fortress is devoid of the blissful aura of inhabitation.
...just like me.
awwwwwwwww, man!
what's on the schedule?
dunno.
anything could happen,
it just seems like it probably won't.
i'm grateful for the time i have been given,
and for the sweet days that give a comparative scale to these bitter hours
and lonely nights.
duders, every day is the worst one,
except yesterday;
never quiet, never soft.....7x38