The Fourth of July

Explosion make good cover

Photo by Arthur Chauvineau on Unsplash

The man with the gun made the other man walk through the forest.

The man without the gun did as he was told because, well, that was the nature of having a gun pointed at you. There was a remarkable power imbalance.

“Walk,” the man with the gun said.

“Where?” the man without a gun asked.

“Just walk.”

And they walked deeper into the forest.

“You know,” the unarmed man said, “you could probably just leave me here. I’m not much for the woods. I don’t think I’d make it out.”

“We’re not even a mile out of town.”

“Oh I see.”

The man with the gun had walked far enough.

“Stop. On your knees.”

“Aren’t you the least bit worried of being caught? It’s so quiet here. Someone’s bound to hear you.”

“Why do you think I waited till the Fourth of July?”

As if on cue, the forest was alive with the sound of fireworks and firecrackers. No one would hear a gun go off in a million miles.

“Oh drat,” the man without a gun said.

And the shots rang out.

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