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  • armanmirhadi

Guns and Girls

I was running down the aisle thinking about victory as the motor sounds hauled and the guns got loaded.

“You only care about yourself!”, she used to tell me. And when she talked to me like that I couldn’t stay composed for long.

“Shut up bitch!” I told her.

I turned, grabbed the gun and the coat, and fished the keys out of the bowl while strutting towards the door, not giving her another look.

She just stood there, her hands pushed against her hip, staring after me. I could feel the shock on her face, her mouth wide open, her eyes fixed. Then she took her shot and jumped forwards:

“What did you just call me?”, and she grabbed my arm, pulling me back.

“Let go of me, bitch!”

“Don’t call me like that!” And she tried with all her strength, which really wasn’t much, to turn me around. “Hey! Don’t call me that! I am not a bitch! What is wrong with you?”

I gently turned around, looked her deep in her eyes, with all the love that I could find, and gave her my warmest smile.

“Baby, I have to tell you something.”, I said with my calm, dark and soothing voice.

She was thrown off by my sudden calmness. Surely not what she expected from any man to do in a situation like that, especially not from a man like me.

“What?”, she threw at me. I took a deep breath and took in the mellow, afternoon sunlight crashing in through the half-opened window beside the door on this lovely fall day.

“Baby, I just need to look at you and I get goosebumps from your beauty. Your eyes, your smile, your hair, you are the most beautiful girl I have ever seen and when I see you smile early in the morning the first thing after I open my eyes, there is no place in the universe I’d rather be than right by your side.”

“What are you doing?”, she asked me confused. “You are the most special woman in my life.”, I said.

“Don’t change topics!”, she said, spurring me on.

“You just sometimes forget that even though you are beautiful, in your heart, you are truly nothing but a trash hoe. And a trash hoe is and forever will be, a trash hoe!”

And she started screaming and yelling and arguing and all that and I just turned and opened the door and was gone in the car.

To this day I haven’t met a girl that wouldn’t call me an asshole at some point in time.


I pressed the pedal down and raced the corner. It felt good going fast. It took the mind of things. It took the mind of everything. Put me right in place. In the moment. The grip cramped around the steering wheel. The eyes fixed on the bright, white, surface markings. Steadily rushing by. Putting me in a trance. I listened to the motor grumble, the old machine working hard. The blue lights were warnings, at the end of the street. Cops.

Sweat on my skin, shock swallowing my breath. The gun rested on the passenger seat. I slowed. The checkpoint was 50 meters in front of me. They must’ve pulled it up in the last hour or so. Two cops besides the car in front. Eyeing me. I knew they’d pick me off. Leaving my left hand on the steering weel, i slowly leaned over and popped the glove box. Trying my best to drive steady, I felt the car drifting right and overcorrected. Fuck. No turning back. 20 meters from the checkpoint, they could see me now. My hand grabbed the gun, pushed it in the glove box and sealed it closed. The pig stood in the middle of the street and waved me to the side. I slowed and stopped. My window rolled down.

“Good evening, sir.” , the officer introduced himself loudly.

“Evening.”, I replied. Calm on the outside, fire on the inside.

“What are you up to tonight?”

“Nothing much. Getting home from my girlfriend's house.”

“Driving license please.”, he said. He didn’t enjoy saying please. I fished the license from my wallet and held it out to him, gifting him a cheeky smile, one he looked right through.



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