Today was an interesting day. This should be entertaining, get you favorite snack ready! (As long as it’s not a danger to your health, in which case you should call poison control)<——–whaaaaaattttt?!?!??!?
Well, lemme go back to last night first.
I got kicked out of my house, rrreeeaaaaallllyyyy embarrassing. But ’tis what ’tis.
Ok, now that that’s out-of-the-way, on to the interesting part!
I was working on a construction job with my cousin. My cousin is quite the craftsmen. He has honed his skills in the areas of plumbing and sheet rock amongst other things. He’s really good at it, too. In just jobs I’ve done with him, we’ve replaced toilets, repaired toilets, replaced a floor, cleared out a clogged water line, re-joisted a ceiling stripped walls and today we replaced an entire sink/cabinet in a bathroom. I like working with me cousin because:
1. He’s very skilled at almost anything he takes the time to figure out construction-wise
2. We have unbelievable chemistry.
We’ve been doing things together since I was a kid; he’d take me under his wing with whatever pre-teen/teenage adventure he’d embark on a given day. He was one of very few shining spots in my childhood, now that I am very intently thinking about it. He was my first big brother figure.
As I’ve grown older our relationship has changed very drastically, but we always remained close. He’s a very loyal man, the type of person you could center a family around really. He’s also very rough on the edges, due to his upbringing, which, if I had the liberty to, I’d share with you. (That was a lot of commas). Inside though, he has such a big heart, almost child-like at times and it shows the most when he’s being creative. We used to combine our imaginations to think up really cool games, altered realities and jokes all the time as kids. You know what….we still kinda do that when we get together now. Today, we’re gonna get a very awesome glimpse of that. His name is Barry, and you’re about to fall in love with this guy. Or at least like him a lot.
Barry: *sweeping up debris, abruptly stops what he’s doing and pops up*
“You know what? I wish we were living in an old Western!”
Me: “What!? Okay, cool!”
B: “I’d probably be in a bar, drinking, surrounded by chicks…you know….”*makes the drinking-surrounded-by-chicks-face*
Me: “I’d probably be the piano dude, you know, with a huge, dirty tip glass….just playin’ some old tunes.”
From there, he proceeded to describe a scene where a few outlaws come into the bar we’re in and threaten me, asking if I know where his character is. One problem, we didn’t have names yet!
Barry: “Your name is Minister Pistols!” (which alludes to my devout Christian-ness) “You know you gotta KILL people, right? HAHAHAHAHA!”
Me: “I guess I would have to, it is the old West! HA! I’d have matching .357’s with gold handles and diamond encrusted crosses! You know what your name is gonna be?”
B:”What? Haahahaha, why?”
Me: “Because all of your gunfights are over in exactly 21 shots! And you always shoot last!”
B: ” I respect that. You being a minister and all, you probably only get in my gunfights, you know, because you’re family.”
Me: “Naturally! You know I’m not really about that gun-slinging life! I’m just at work and you happen to be there starting trouble! Hahahahah!”
After a few more gunfights and caulk fill-ins, we decided that we had to come up with epic deaths. I decided that I would die preaching, duh! Years later, I started a church in Houston (the town that we had run in our younger years) and was converting my former enemies and their families to Christ. One fateful Sunday, the son of my first gun victim burst into a service and shot me dead, at the end of a sermon saying, “To live is Christ, to die is gain!”
Barry’s character, Blackjack, was already on the way to defend me, because he got word of my attacker long before word got to me, On his way to me, he got stopped 3 towns out by our rival gang, The Wasteland Scorpions! There were seven of them and one of him. The battle ensued, guns blazing (1,2,3,4,5) dust flying from boot spurs (6,7,8,9) obscenities spat (10,11)….the scene cuts to his father giving him shooting advice as a youngster…”squeeze the trigger, don’t pull it! (12,13,14,15)….”steady aim, son, hold your breath!”…(16,17)….Blackjack’s son, Little Deuce, was hiding behind an old, broken wagon, fiddling with bullets to put in his 2-shot .22 caliber pistol (18!) Blackjack surveys the area quickly and sees 4 men down. “QUICK, TO THE LEFT BOY! Don’t miss!”…echoes of his father’s voice….one bullet goes through two men! (19!) A stray shot whizzes past his ear ZZZZZZurm! (20!)
He returns fire with pinpoint accuracy, whispering his trademark….”Blackjack…”
The bullet explodes from the barrel of his rusty Colt .45 and enters the last Scorpion, dead between the eyes!
Blackjack feels a burning sensation in his heart, like a punch from a titan, it spun him halfway and brought him to one knee……he spotted the shooter, nestled on a roof with a measly hunter’s rifle….
There was still one bullet in Blackjack’s gun. With his last bit of strength, he squeezes the trigger and hits the scrawny bastard in the gut….and then falls….to his death…..the screen fades….but Blackjack arm rises right before a fade to black…..
To be continued….
So, basically my point is my family is really creative. We seem to all have really amazing imaginations….I didn’t even tell you half of what we came up with!
P.S. we’re gonna write up a pilot and send it to every major network in the galaxy! (Seriously, though, so don’t steal it or we will fight in court…..with rusty pistols!)