noxeos

The day the metal came back

Once upon a black rising sun, there was a man and his gun. He asked his gun a favor, it responded only to him. Let's go have a blast, then go make some fun. We'll paint the town red, we'll make some noise. So off the man went, with him his gun. Off to town, a man and his gun.

They got there at dusk, when everybody'd be sleeping. This man had his rifle, him and his gun. He threw some noisemakers into a bedroom, hoping to stir up some fun. It woke them quite quickly, up they stirred. Not pleasantly woken, away they fled. Oh no not this man, he would not let them go. For when they were woken, he gave them a show. Him and his gun spoke between gunshots. They conversed of days long past, when they met at the beaches. They became friends quite fast, their lives were at stake. Now they did it for fun, and enjoyed it quite thorougly. The muzzle of gunfire could be heard distantly. The soldiers came a running, not in it for fun. They used their own weapons, each had a gun. They gave the man a fight, for which he was no match. He fell there in the town, him and his gun. One american soldier, alone with his gun.