Murderpistol XXR

In my hand rests the gun.

All I have to do now is lift it towards my head and pull the trigger.

Only a few more seconds of conscious living left before I will float in a sea of desolation and nothingness.

It's not heavy, the feeling is just right. Everything is just right. Rest the muzzle under my nose, leave behind an ugly face so the world knows how ugly it makes people... Cold... it's cold but now I see the finish line. One more motion, one more signal from the brain before peace. Pull the trigger man, pull the trigger.

Final breath, goodbye everyone. I pull the trigger but nothing happens.

I open my eyes but I cannot see anything. Am I still thinking? I feel something running down my nose but I cant tell if its warm or cold. My head itches... did I do it? What's going on?

And then a fuzzy feeling washes over me and I stop thinking.

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I walked in and saw him leaning back in his chair with a river of blood seeping out of his nose. My boy... light of my life... why did he do it? No, it couldn't be, he wouldn't, I try to wake him but he does not respond.

This cannot be happening.

It has to be a dream. It has to be.

I see the gun, and then I understand. It's not a gun, it's a release. I understand his pain because it was my own, my failure led him to this. Jesus, it's all over... he took the first step... hold on baby... mommy is coming.

The gun feels right as I hold it, like everything has lead up to this... like this is the top of a mountain.

I fire, and slowly I fall. Honey, I'm coming, wait for me.
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So like, I went over to Brandon's house and like, DUDE, walk into his room and fuckin Brandon and his mom were all shot up and shit. I was like WHAT THE FUCK!? Then, I saw this gun laying on the ground and I was like, DAMN this must be what they used to off themselves... SHIT! They must've shot like, a shit-ton of bullets or somethin or been smokin some bad herb cause they just layin' around like some fuckin' corpses.

This gun feels weird man... Like its made outta some weird shit or somethin. I wonder if its loaded or anything... I don't see nothin down the barrel, how do you check if its loaded? I don't see nothin, maybe if...

Whoa... what the fuck dude? White everywhere, fuckin ringing and shit... Ahh man, somethins warm...
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It looks as if a suicide pact was carried out here. Brandon Ropin, his mother, and his friend Kyle Bartow. Christ... what the hell happened here?

This world gets darker and darker every day... for no reason people are blowing their brains...

Tompkins... what are you doing? That's evidence, Tompkins! TOMPKI---
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Excuse me, your lordship?

Yes, forgive me God, it seems your Murderpistol XXR had fallen to Earth and provoked... uhm, 57 humans to commit suicide or murder... or a combination of both. However we have recovered the artifact and we are pleased to say that the souls of the departed...

What? My... my God what do you mean? How can you not be real?! Then what is all of this? This cant be a lie! It feels so real, no, ideas are just ideas this has to be reality, it has to be!!!!!

Lord no, please just, no! I won't listen! There has to be a mistake, there has to be another way... No other way...

Murderpistol... are you 'just an idea' too?

Please... please be real... release me from-
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ON YOUR MARK, GET SET, HNGGGGGH!!!!!!!!!!!