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>Hike to the top of a ridge avoiding fagy switchbacks along the way
>Nothing but the wind rustling through the trees
>Sit down at the base of a tree, take a drink from my water skin, and fan my face with my hat
>Wind stops for a second and I hear the unmistakable sound of a dice game
>The smell of swisher sweets lingers in the air
>Hear feral city ape shout over "Ay yo white boy, gibs me dat water, it's hot as a mutha fucka out here”
>Sorry friend, I only packed enough for myself, and I still have a long way to go before sun down
>"Bich I said gib me dat water"
>City Ape pulls out his glawk .40 problem stoppa
>I rise to my feet and reach under my poncho. >My fingers wrap around the ivory grips of my ruger super black hawk, loaded with hardcast bullets
>City Apes friend yells out "Oh snap this cracka gota a heater, ventilate his whack ass
>City Ape jumps in a primal fashion, firing with one outstretched hand, while using his other as crude counter weight
>Jumping from branch to branch firing wildly with his gun turned 45 degree to one side
>Bullets fly in every direction but mine, his stendo’ clip is nearly spent
>Pull my gigantic silver revolver from its hand crafted sheath.
>The sun reflects off it barrel blinding every feral animal lurking in these woods
>This is it. This is the time I have been waiting for my entire life. I know exactly what I must say
>Basketball Americans gun stops firing, and everything is silent for a minute. Only the sound of impotent clicks from the monsters trigger can be heard.
>I take a deep breath and lock eyes with the beast
>"y...you too"
>I fire one shot. The fireball blinds everything ten yards in front of me. The sound of the revolver causes permanent hearing loss for all involved parties
>The ape and his friend run, tripping down the hill
>I blow the smoke from the end of my barrel
>This is MAGA country I mutter to myself
