You don’t choose your name, but you do choose your brand. Sadly though, we live in a market that has become so finely in tune with our rather simplistic and limited means of existence, that yours is just another in a large swelling mass of options. What does this mean for you as a gunsmith in the 21st century – well. We’re just not sure anymore, but instead would prefer to think that the family has a well stocked cache waiting at any moment. Incest in the deep south is not uncommon, and owning a gun goes hand in hand with that. Sadly, the two have become intertwined with one another and now dreams are allowed to unfold. Some good and some horrific – those that are actualized range from whimsical and majestic to perverse and animal-like. But then again, who am I but a monkey with a digital typewriter.
So the guns get passed around from town to town and used, oiled and reused again. Until the point wherein the gun malfunctions or stops working. Or better yet, becomes unwanted and left aside to rust with the Colts from last season that were never carried away and the heartlessness of a mind left unperturbed by the consequences of her actions. Yet indeed, he still sits there day after day, loading and unloading his .22 and thinking about why again. That silence is interrupted though by crashing sound of an automatic Tech-9 opening fire in the distance, their opportunities now squandered retire to the cave from whence they were released originally. The bullet casings collapse around the floor and your ankles become hollowed out by the resounding thump of the kickback from the rifle. Your feelings remain immersed in a pool of shallow faces offering glimpses of hope into a future less governed by our petty base urges.
Yet still, that water encompass your body. You float there thinking about what to do next – what would they have you do? But that question goes unanswered. The truth lingers like the last bubble of air you slipped out. An otherwise sunny day on land, and the troops are ready to rock, They love shooting their rounds around the park. Spraying bullets in every direction, but it’s is literally aimless. Some consider art to be the glint of the sun’s light on a loaded Sig, others think it to be something so much more innocent and so much less spiteful. Yet there’s no arguing with a loaded gun. Your chances of survival depend only on your will to survive – and yet there they gleam, with their faces all hollowed out and the feeling of satisfaction brimming from ear to ear. They understand what it means to taste blood. A gun won’t do much in their general direction. An attack vector would only dissipate in the greater scheme of things. Do your parents know? Do they understand what this means. Do they care for you. Probably the chances are more likely that they are loading a gun and considering that an art. Gunivore.com is the place to go when it comes to everything guns “check em out!”.