Big long guns with ivory handles
Who: Pickles the Drummer and Kurt Hummel
When: Early afternoon on Friday.
Where: The woods behind the car dealership in Sector 7.
Summary: The direct result of this conversation. Pickles's (attempt at) teaching Kurt how to use a gun.
Warnings: American Dad lyrics that I couldn't resist. Adult language, pro-firearm sentiments, and one person brought alcohol to the picnic.
Pickles was just as adept with finding shit as he was with drums and clearing a gravity bong. The fruity kid wanted to try his hand at firing a gun, so he found one for him, and then he found a place they could practice. And after all this effort, he did stop a few times and wonder why the fuck he even bothered, and he always came up with the same answers: boredom and laughs. And why the fuck not?
Though he wouldn't have found Sector 7 if it wasn't for the fruity kid, so there was that. He didn't miss the outdoors or anything, but it was good to get out of the city and breathe some fresh air, for once. He thinks to himself: if he has to be stuck in the Port much longer, maybe he'd find a boat and go fishing one day. That would be bad ass.
But first things first. Pickles stops at random in the first clearing he likes, where they're surrounded by the tall stems of pine trees, and the overhead branches make the space seem even more damp and secluded. He clears his sinuses, drops his backpack and addresses Kurt. "Okay. Dis is it."
When: Early afternoon on Friday.
Where: The woods behind the car dealership in Sector 7.
Summary: The direct result of this conversation. Pickles's (attempt at) teaching Kurt how to use a gun.
Warnings: American Dad lyrics that I couldn't resist. Adult language, pro-firearm sentiments, and one person brought alcohol to the picnic.
Pickles was just as adept with finding shit as he was with drums and clearing a gravity bong. The fruity kid wanted to try his hand at firing a gun, so he found one for him, and then he found a place they could practice. And after all this effort, he did stop a few times and wonder why the fuck he even bothered, and he always came up with the same answers: boredom and laughs. And why the fuck not?
Though he wouldn't have found Sector 7 if it wasn't for the fruity kid, so there was that. He didn't miss the outdoors or anything, but it was good to get out of the city and breathe some fresh air, for once. He thinks to himself: if he has to be stuck in the Port much longer, maybe he'd find a boat and go fishing one day. That would be bad ass.
But first things first. Pickles stops at random in the first clearing he likes, where they're surrounded by the tall stems of pine trees, and the overhead branches make the space seem even more damp and secluded. He clears his sinuses, drops his backpack and addresses Kurt. "Okay. Dis is it."