The gun Earl Tucker twirled clumsily was a. 380 semiautomatic Walther PPK.
Alice held out her hand. “Let me try it,” she said, beckoning.
Earl held the gun out butt first, but when she reached for it, he flipped it in his hand and aimed the barrel at her.
“That's an old Western trick that Marshal William Earp was famous for.”
“You mean Wyatt Earp.”
“S’wat I said.”
“You said William Earp.”
She grabbed the gun from Earl and turned it over in her hands.
“You think I don't know Wyatt Earp? Was a tongue slip, is all that was. Know ah'm sayin’?”
“Only a retard would think it was William.”
Earl put his face close to Alice's ear. “How would you like to be porked by a real cowboy?”
She pushed him back onto her bed and aimed the gun at a picture on her wall. “A real cowboy wouldn't give his gun to a girl.”
He sat up and held out his hand. “So, give it back.”
“Let me hold it,” she said.
“You don't even know how to use it.”
“Show me.”
“Nah.”
“You don't know how to shoot it, do you?”
Earl frowned. “What chu talkin’?”
“How does it work, then?”
Earl took the gun and, reaching into his pocket, he took out a loaded magazine. “You push this clip up inna handle, pull back the doohickey and let go, an’ she's ready for action. Know ah'm sayin’?”
“I get it.” She looked at the empty handle and reached out for the loaded magazine. “Okay. Let me load it.”
“Naw, it's too dangerous. Girls don know shit about guns.”
“If you ever want me to milk big Earl again,” she said, waving her fingers and smiling seductively.
“ Ah- ite,” he said, handing her the magazine.
She inserted the magazine and aimed the gun at the picture again, whereupon the magazine fell to the carpet.
“You have to puts it all the way in,” Earl whined, handing it back. “Listen for it to click. And grab the top and pull that part back so it sticks the bullet in the barrel. And then you just pull the trigger, see ah'm sayin’?”
Alice followed Earl's instructions, pointed the gun at the large jar filled with pennies sitting atop her dresser and pulled the trigger. The jar seemed to evaporate and a spray of hundreds of copper coins filled the air, then landed and bounced on the hardwood floor. Alice's ears rang and she looked at the smoking gun as though finding it in her hand was a complete and baffling surprise.
“ Oh- my- god,” she said, grinning widely.
When Earl didn't answer, Alice looked back at him and noticed a stream of blood running down from his forehead, down his nose, and dripping onto the front of his extra- extra- large white T-shirt emblazoned with a picture of a sneering 5 °Cent.
“Earl!” she screamed. “Oh, shit!”
He turned his eyes to her.
“You're bleeding!”
Earl put his hand to the tip of his nose, looked at the blood on his fingers, and, with the unyielding stiffness of a falling tree, hit the wood floor so hard his head bounced.