dear trouble shooter diary,
when i was little- we weren't allowed to get the guns out until my dad or grandma was awake. then we could take them on outside away from the propane tank and shoot the corn cans off the fence post- and they'd better be the empty cans. the ones filled with lima beans and shit fuckin shot up the best tho- they did- i ain't gunna lie. i knew that one gun my brother had was different- but i didn't say anything- cuz- i just didn't. fuck my brother. i don't write much about him and trust me- there are a fucking boat load of reasons- and i ain't about to get into all of them- but maybe in another six hundred posts i might. stay tuned. but anyway MY BROTHER, who shall remain nameless, but who changes his name so often that it wouldn't matter WHAT i called him (lol at self) shoots off a gun and brings everyone running within a quarter of a mile. oh wow. everyone is still alive. he didn't have it pointed at me THAT TIME, put he used to point them at me often. i got to stab him with a steak knife once- and then pour salt in the open wound. he blew up my barbie heads with firecrackers- i stomped on his boombox. i tried to love him as an adult, i just love his ex-wife now and children- WHO HE TRIED TO RUN OVER WITH A CAR- trying to be just like the unibomber. so i finally gave up trying to figure out which guns were the guns we could play with and which ones we couldn't and i gave up trying to play with my dumb brother too. but his ex-wife is sure sweet and lucky too. i wish i could have divorced my brother.
when i was little- we weren't allowed to get the guns out until my dad or grandma was awake. then we could take them on outside away from the propane tank and shoot the corn cans off the fence post- and they'd better be the empty cans. the ones filled with lima beans and shit fuckin shot up the best tho- they did- i ain't gunna lie. i knew that one gun my brother had was different- but i didn't say anything- cuz- i just didn't. fuck my brother. i don't write much about him and trust me- there are a fucking boat load of reasons- and i ain't about to get into all of them- but maybe in another six hundred posts i might. stay tuned. but anyway MY BROTHER, who shall remain nameless, but who changes his name so often that it wouldn't matter WHAT i called him (lol at self) shoots off a gun and brings everyone running within a quarter of a mile. oh wow. everyone is still alive. he didn't have it pointed at me THAT TIME, put he used to point them at me often. i got to stab him with a steak knife once- and then pour salt in the open wound. he blew up my barbie heads with firecrackers- i stomped on his boombox. i tried to love him as an adult, i just love his ex-wife now and children- WHO HE TRIED TO RUN OVER WITH A CAR- trying to be just like the unibomber. so i finally gave up trying to figure out which guns were the guns we could play with and which ones we couldn't and i gave up trying to play with my dumb brother too. but his ex-wife is sure sweet and lucky too. i wish i could have divorced my brother.
