I take it to the firing range, where we cosy up and get acquainted. This is a gun I WANT you to see coming, you whining Motherfuckers. Nearly five pounds of cold steel, with a twelve inch barrel that completely rules it out as a concealed weapon. And Mother Superior always told me, that suffering makes us stronger.Īfter heavily tipping a sales guy to leave me the fuck alone, I decide on the Magnum Desert Eagle. Too strong and it’s liable to blow the head clean off without any suffering. Too weak and you’ll barely feel the essential rush. Here’s me walking the aisle of his gun emporium.Ĭhoosing the right firearm is like selecting the right narcotic. Now that trick belongs to Lil Carducci, overseer of a thriving firearms, gambling and sex empire. It’s said that once only alchemists knew the secret of turning dull lead into gold. I went shopping for the biggest badass gun money could buy. A world where safety systems are enabled so that grievances can be resolved in a calm and resolute manner. Angry strippers, jealous husbands, enraged pimps – I was getting hit on all sides, even threatened with elimination from Second Life.īut this is a fair world, a civil and just world.
At least, not unless they were OUT OF THEIR FUCKING MINDS.īy Sunday, the feces, as they say, had not so much hit the fan, as had ricocheted back into my face, adding a visceral edge to the shit-eating grin I was already wearing. With a title like that, no-one would miss the irony. “ The Best Little Whorehouses in Second Life“. On Saturday, I finished my last piece, just before deadline. Fear and Loathing in Second Life Part 4: Happiness is a Warm Gunīy Alphaville Herald on 08/01/07 at 6:51 pm