Run like a deer, like a rabbit…

mule deer running

~~~

GUN 2013

Chapter 12

~~~

Do I actually tumble down the stairs?  No.  I scuttle like a bug.  The soles of my hiking shoes barely touch the edge of each corrugated metal step at the backside of the inn.  Now I’m on the ground & down the alley & around the corner.  Why didn’t I go out the front?  Why ain’t I perfect?  And why has my left leg gone lame?  Why are my knees cracking?  Why am I not having a heart attack instead of running like a deer, like a rabbit?

Run run.

I run by the poor kid layed-out on the sidewalk, 3 or 4 folks gathered around him, one kneeling checking the little guy’s lack of pulse, the crying little girl standing there with a derringer in her hand.  The reality of the minature 22-caliber gun not being a toy ~ hammers her sweet little face as the tears waterfall into a lake at her feet.  She just killed her brother with a gun that a clown gave her.

I’m running down the cross-street because I saw a flash of that clown turn down an alley.  He is red white & blue aflutter ~ big red & blue spots on white with gold ruffles, goofy face, frizzy hair, a red ball stuck on the end of his nose.  This little red ball came undone, is bouncing on the sidewalk.  I kick it into the traffic as I pass ~ old horn-dog style now ~ so swiftly do I pass.

When I reach the alley down which the not-so-funny rainbow disappeared, I’m totally out of breath.  I slow down.  I turn the corner into the alley casually & in no hurry.  I am on a sight-seeing stroll.  I am a humming tourist.

There he is ~ way up the narrow back-way ~ crossing Gurley Street.  Now he is behind Whiskey Row.  He is on the move at a brisk pace.  And now, baby, now, so am I.

Whoa!

In the blink of of a lizard’s eye, he is on one knee facing me with what looks like an assault rifle & scope raised & ready to fire.

I go squat behind a trash bin & pretend like I’m taking a crap.  A fashionably dressed man & woman on a fancy date stroll by.  They’re laughing.  I straighten up and peer over the bin.

My prey is gone.  I forgot to mention the clown was toting a laundry-like cloth bag ~ I presume full of goodies.  That must be from where he pulled out what I presume was a deadly weapon aimed at my head.  I presume it was not a toy…

~ by Rawclyde!

~~~

jack-rabbit-running

Photos courtesy of:

http://www.coloradoan.com/article/20121111/XPLORE/311110023

http://texasmountaintrail.blogspot.com/2010_05_01_archive.html

~~~

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