01-04-2009, 05:31 PM
Brandon laid asleep in his bed, leaving his door open for his new pet to come and go as she pleased. He slept naked, and it didn't seem to bother her one bit. After the day before, she really didn't mind him.
******
They stepped into the sad little trailer house at the end of the street. Brandon set a box labeled Summit Racing Equipment that he got in the mail on an old table in the kitchen, then showed her around.
Two of the bedrooms were empty, and used for storage, holding boxes of stuff, ranging from car parts to old coins that he collected. His office area was in the living room, a desk made of an old trunk lid off a car and some cinderblocks, housing a very nice computer system. Next to it was a flatscreen TV and surround sound system, with a Coffee Table made of the Engine Block out of a truck and a sheet of glass that looked rather tasteful, in an industrial way. Seats out of cars and a couch made up the rest of the living room, giving the room a feel of someone who was either too busy or too lazy to make it work.
Brandon showed her his room next, opening the door labeled NO TRESPASSING. Adorned on the walls were a Rebel Flag, a POW/MIA Flag, a Texas Flag, and an American Flag, along with a few sword with decorative plaques and the flywheel from a car. A large bed was placed in the middle, with a window tinted with auto tint to one side. A simple dresser stained artfully to have the effect of one of those old "woody" wagons, and the walls were painted a dull shade of black. She only now noticed, but the entire inside of the house was painted the dull shade of black. She was about to ask him why, when she heard a click.
Brandon pulled the clip from his rifle, and showed it to her, "this is an M-14 Assault Rifle, built by Springfield Arms in 2007. It is a precision machine made of forged steel and black forest walnut. You NEVER play with this. Treat it as if it is ALWAYS loaded, and that it can kill you if you mishandle it. Throughout your life, treat every weapon with the respect and fear it deserves, because it can take your life just as easily as it can save it."
******
Blitz learned quickly that Brandon didn't treat her as a pet, but more as a roommate. Sure, she slept at the foot of his bed, but he had offered for her to sleep under the covers with him. She didn't eat dried kibble from a bowl on the floor, but ate whatever Brandon felt like getting from one of the many drive-thru restaurants in town. She used the toilet, even bathed in the shower. She quickly fell in love with her home and the freedoms within it.
She was laying on the floor in the living room, chewing on a large bone, when her ears perked up. Someone was outside. She creeped up to the window, and saw a man next door with a knife and pantyhose on his head.
She ran for Brandon, and shook him awake.
"Brandon, there's a man outside with a knife." Blitz whispered urgently.
In a flash, Brandon had his jeans on, and grabbed his M-14, grabbing a clip from his "Kill Box" of ammo, an old Vietnam-Era Ammo Box, one of three he kept near his bed.
With a loud "Ka-Chang!", he jacked a round in the chamber, and stepped out onto his back porch. He saw the man, and raised his rifle up, flicking the variable-fire select lever on the side to Semi-Auto.
"BOY, YOU DON'T LIVE THERE, WHAT THE FUCK ARE YOU DOING?! DROP THAT SHIT BEFORE I BLOW YOUR FUCKING BRAINS OUT!!!!" he yelled, his voice echoing down the quiet street.
Blitz was utterly shocked and the raw anger he saw in his eyes. She made a mental note never to wake him up unless it was important.
******
They stepped into the sad little trailer house at the end of the street. Brandon set a box labeled Summit Racing Equipment that he got in the mail on an old table in the kitchen, then showed her around.
Two of the bedrooms were empty, and used for storage, holding boxes of stuff, ranging from car parts to old coins that he collected. His office area was in the living room, a desk made of an old trunk lid off a car and some cinderblocks, housing a very nice computer system. Next to it was a flatscreen TV and surround sound system, with a Coffee Table made of the Engine Block out of a truck and a sheet of glass that looked rather tasteful, in an industrial way. Seats out of cars and a couch made up the rest of the living room, giving the room a feel of someone who was either too busy or too lazy to make it work.
Brandon showed her his room next, opening the door labeled NO TRESPASSING. Adorned on the walls were a Rebel Flag, a POW/MIA Flag, a Texas Flag, and an American Flag, along with a few sword with decorative plaques and the flywheel from a car. A large bed was placed in the middle, with a window tinted with auto tint to one side. A simple dresser stained artfully to have the effect of one of those old "woody" wagons, and the walls were painted a dull shade of black. She only now noticed, but the entire inside of the house was painted the dull shade of black. She was about to ask him why, when she heard a click.
Brandon pulled the clip from his rifle, and showed it to her, "this is an M-14 Assault Rifle, built by Springfield Arms in 2007. It is a precision machine made of forged steel and black forest walnut. You NEVER play with this. Treat it as if it is ALWAYS loaded, and that it can kill you if you mishandle it. Throughout your life, treat every weapon with the respect and fear it deserves, because it can take your life just as easily as it can save it."
******
Blitz learned quickly that Brandon didn't treat her as a pet, but more as a roommate. Sure, she slept at the foot of his bed, but he had offered for her to sleep under the covers with him. She didn't eat dried kibble from a bowl on the floor, but ate whatever Brandon felt like getting from one of the many drive-thru restaurants in town. She used the toilet, even bathed in the shower. She quickly fell in love with her home and the freedoms within it.
She was laying on the floor in the living room, chewing on a large bone, when her ears perked up. Someone was outside. She creeped up to the window, and saw a man next door with a knife and pantyhose on his head.
She ran for Brandon, and shook him awake.
"Brandon, there's a man outside with a knife." Blitz whispered urgently.
In a flash, Brandon had his jeans on, and grabbed his M-14, grabbing a clip from his "Kill Box" of ammo, an old Vietnam-Era Ammo Box, one of three he kept near his bed.
With a loud "Ka-Chang!", he jacked a round in the chamber, and stepped out onto his back porch. He saw the man, and raised his rifle up, flicking the variable-fire select lever on the side to Semi-Auto.
"BOY, YOU DON'T LIVE THERE, WHAT THE FUCK ARE YOU DOING?! DROP THAT SHIT BEFORE I BLOW YOUR FUCKING BRAINS OUT!!!!" he yelled, his voice echoing down the quiet street.
Blitz was utterly shocked and the raw anger he saw in his eyes. She made a mental note never to wake him up unless it was important.
The last mutt standing.
The one and only, Cowboy from Hell.
******
Bury me with my guns on,
So when I reach the other side,
I can show him what it feels like to die.
I can show him what it feels like to die.
Bury me with my guns on,
So when I'm cast out of the skies,
I can shoot the Devil right between the eyes.
