Part 3

Yanick Champoux

Clutched by fear, knowing that Death was in the room and was all too eager to give me the final wedgie, I stared at the lady. With a voice that I hoped to be sure and confident, but knew to be strident and whining, I reminded her that multiple perforations of a fellow human by projectiles was the last resort of the weak. The damsel, undaunted by my words, raised her hand and pulled back the hammer. Her eyes, hard as marshmallows forgotten at the back of the pantry, left me little doubt of her intentions.