I sought protection in a little church. Not so much for my sinner's sudden conscience but trying to avoid Matt Monger, the gangster who was chasing me with a revolver in his hand. I got into the church, ran the full length of the centre passage and had barely jumped over and behind the altar when Matt burst through the door firing 3 shots at the same time, one of them hit off one testicle of Christ. Adding insult to injury, 3 more shots sounded from the opposite direction. Enough to dissuade him to get too close toward me.
Grabbing tightly my own Magnum 45, I stuck out my head a little over the parapet trying to gauge the situation and the whereabouts of the enemy, when 2 more shots flew and hit the candelabras; these shots too were returned.
Gathering what courage I could summon to change the altar for the pulpit, giving an ostentatious somersault-like, acrobatic feat in the process, I heard one more shot, returned by another. There! Six.
I straightened up and began walking down the centre walk-path, Magnum in hand. He threw the revolver between the benches and raised up both his hands.
'I have counted your shots' he said, 'your cartridge is also empty.'
I observed briefly his fancy footwork of a professional boxer, then I fired a shot at his knee.
'My cartridge is full, you Imbecile.' while entertaining myself between his screaming, amplified by the high roof of the empty church. 'The returned shots you heard was the Eco.'
Tags: fictionstory
Prev: 17th June 2011 Brain On Wheels
No comments:
Post a Comment