"HE’D ALWAYS THOUGHT it was stupid to call it “eating your gun.” Even with the barrel in his mouth. Which tasted, by the way, like an engine.
Not that he had ever eaten one of those, either.
He might not have found this last thought as funny before the vodka, but it was either laugh or cry, and there were no more tears left. And now that he thought of it, going out with a laugh actually seemed like a good idea. So, he pulled the trigger mid-chuckle.
Well, hell. That was unexpected.
You stupid SOB. Now, I have to start all over…
BEFORE THIS MOMENT, if you had asked me what color pain was, I probably would have replied “red.”"
it sounds good so far.