The other night our neighbors were acting up again. Noisy, boisterous, and just generally being assholes. At midnight. So, I grabbed one of my pistols...is it wrong that I have to choose which one I want, and hover for a moment in indecision? Anyway, I tucked it up under my armpit, and to the casual observer, I would look like a silver-haired man who was chilly in his nightshirt, hugging himself for warmth with his arms across his chest.
I snuck the door open, and stepped out into the pool of shadow that is our front porch...
And then I got to thinking. Dammit. Don't think, shoot, to paraphrase Tuco. What am I gonna do with the bodies? Fuck, what will happen to the wife and kids after? Will they have to move when I am on the run or in prison? Okay, what if I just point my gun at these idiots, and ask them nicely to be quiet?
Crap, they've been drinking, and they're young. One of them is going to make me shoot him.
Thinking is bad.
A fresh burst of ape sounds burst forth from their noise-holes, and I steeled myself for the confrontation, and as I stepped off the rough cement onto the cold grass, I heard the wife's voice, as if from on high...well, the second storey, anyway..."Hey, could you guys keep it down, please? My kids and I can't get any sleep..."
They hushed, one of them said "Yes Ma'am" and they all moved inside and blessed quiet descended over the land.
Is it that easy? Fuck me, I was ready to do murder, and she calms the sea with a word? I came back inside, chastened. She met me at the top of the stairs, saw the pistol in my hand, and raised an eyebrow. Then she gave me a hug, and a smile, went into the bathroom and trickled, and went back to bed.
Shit, I've got a lot to learn...