The Game #1

I've been inspired to do a couple Friday Flash stories on a certain theme...

This story is rated R.

    On the coffee table, surrounded by the empty bottles of beer, Scott’s single-action revolver begged me to follow through with my boasts. I reached for the gun; Scott tossed a bullet my way.

    It was strange how the weight of the gun felt in my hand. It was heavier than I expected, but it still seemed light for something with that much power. Scott watched me stare at his gun until he cleared his throat and I looked up. He nodded at me and I put the bullet into one of the chambers.

    “I can’t believe you’re doing this.” he said.

    “Of course I am. I’m not going to let some little bitch like you play the ‘but I was in Iraq so I’ve got balls’ card and get away with it.”

    “It’s not because I was in Iraq that I have balls. It’s the other way around dude. If you had any, you’ve been--”

    “Shut up and just let me fuckin do this.” I spun the chamber, the tiny gears whirred away until I slapped the cylinder back into place.

    Scott rolled back on the couch and started laughing. “I never expected you to take this so far. Just put it away--”

    “No, man. No.” I pointed the gun straight down onto my thigh, pulled back the hammer, and squeezed the trigger. I heard a click, and I pulled the gun up; my leg was shaking. “Dude. Oh my god, what a rush. You have to try this.”

    “No fucking way. No.”

    “You pussy.”

    “There’s no way I’m putting a gun--”

    “You fucking pussy.”

    Scott shook his head, leaned forward, grabbed one of the near-empty bottles of warm, cheap beer, and drank it. “Give it to me.” He took the gun and stared at it in his hand. “I’ll show you how to fucking do this.”

    He cleaned off the table with one swipe, knocking the bottles to the floor, and slapped his left  palm onto the water-stained wood. “Leg’s nothin. This takes real balls.” He pointed the barrel on the top of his hand, cocked, and fired.

    “Whew!” Scott jumped up and down, shaking his hand. I didn’t hear anything and his hand looked fine. “Yea man! Fuck yea! That was one hell of a rush.”

    He tossed the gun back to me.

    “We’re going more than once?”

    “Oh hell yea. All the way baby. All the way. Once you start, you can’t stop.”

    “Fuck it.” I put my right hand on the table, like Scott did with his left. “I write with this one bitch. Left hand’s nothin.” I fumbled with the hammer, but once it was back I pulled the trigger. I again heard the soft click, and when I looked down, my hand was fine.

    “Back to you.”

    “Gimmie that shit.” Scott took the gun from me and pointed it at his abdomen. “Hand’s nothin. This shit will fuck you up.”

    “Dude, that’s just stupid.”

    “I’m not afraid.”

    He pulled the trigger.

    I heard it that time. It was unmistakable. I fell off my chair and the gun tumbled across the floor. I looked up at Scott as his eyes rolled back into his head.