Nobody’s Perfect:The Night Stephen King Couldn’t Reach His Gun…

Nobody’s Perfect

Stephen King, has just admitted to the fact: That…he’s a wimp.  I mean, go ahead and look at him. I could probably beat him up in a fight. He owns three handguns, and yet, doesn’t think anybody else in the United States should have the same right as him.  Much like Nancy, Obama, Biden—- you know all the liberals who want our guns.

And for just 99 cents, you can buy his opinions on the subject of why we need to ban guns. Mr. King wants to ban automatic and semi-automatic guns because of the slaughter at Sandy Hook. He fails to mention that at Sandy Hook, handguns were used, no assault weapons. But that’s why Stephen is so good at writing fiction. Call it a “mental” collapse, probably from all the drugs he has done in his life….

Oh? You didn’t know that Stephen King has been a big-time major drug addict in his lifetime? No? You name the drug, he has done it: heroin, cocaine, grass, glue, uppers, downers, whiskey, pain killers, morphine,…and that was BEFORE he got hit by a truck.

Is it any wonder he invents visions of mass murders? He lives in a world of “revenge” of probably just too many bullies beating up on him early in his life, I’m guessing from grade school through high school, Stephen got bullied.

God gave him a talent to write fiction. What God forgot to do was give the man common sense.

Nobody’s Perfect.

Stephen said blanket opposition to gun control was less about defending the second amendment of the US constitution than “a stubborn desire to hold onto what they have, and to hell with the collateral damage”. He added: “If that’s the case, let me suggest that ‘fuck you, Jack, I’m okay’ is not a tenable position, morally speaking.”

Morally speaking? Once upon a time, a book Mr. King wrote inspired a kid to go and kill a teacher…just like in his book…and he didn’t feel guilty about it.

King said he did not apologize for writing Rage – “no, sir, no ma’am” – because it told the truth about high-school alienation and spoke to troubled adolescents who “were already broken”. However, he said, he ordered his publisher to withdraw the book because it had proved dangerous. He was not obliged to do so by law – it was protected by the first amendment – but it was the right thing to do. Gun advocates should do the same, he argued.

Uh…well gee Mr. King—gun owners are protected by the second amendment…but I guess you didn’t get that far into the document.

The idea that US gun rampages stem from a culture of violence was a “self-serving lie promulgated by fundamentalist religious types and America’s propaganda-savvy gun-pimps”, he wrote. In reality the US had a “Kardashian culture” which preferred to read and watch comedies, romances and super-heroes, rather than stories involving gun violence.

King said every citizen needed to ponder the fact the US was awash with guns. “If this helps provoke constructive debate,” he said, “I’ve done my job.”

Okay Mr. King.—–I am having a very creative fictional motive to “talk” about the subject: I think it’s a wonderful idea to exercise my first amendment rights: I agree with you! Viva la Constitution!

Nobody Notes (WARNING: Violence ahead)

From— THE NIGHT STEPHEN KING COULDN’T REACH HIS GUN…BY NOBODY

 After a stranger broke into Stephen’s millions dollar mansion, and tied him to his desk with duck tape…Stephen King’s villains are about to kill him–

Stephen looked at the floor, he saw his foot had been chewed off by Cujo. The blood from what was now a big stub at the end of his leg…spurted out in rhythmic gushes from the beat of his heart….The dog had dragged the bloody foot to the corner to chew on it in peace.  Stephen TRIED to move…if he could just get up.. just move to the drawer where he knew he had a gun, but his hands were tied to his desk…and the desk was immovable.

Damn. Why did he have to buy oak?

Stephen’s pain was immense…the blood poured out on the floor… Stephen was about to fall down to the floor, and then he saw him:  Flagg…the King Devil of Las Vegas, from his novel.—(The Stand)  and he was standing in the corner of the room, by the lamp that his wife had bought last year at the flea market.  Flagg was smiling…and holding one of King’s guns in his hand.

“SHOOT HIM! SHOOT HIM! God damn it..don’t you know who I am?,” screamed Stephen. His glasses had fallen to the floor…the Devil…took a few steps, and stomped. The sound was…sweet to the Devils’ ears.

“Yes sir, Mr. King. You are the most famous writer of violence in the world. Why, you are known all over for how cleverly you torture, and dismember your characters…including me. No one can tell what goes on in between the person you were and the person you become. No one can chart that blue and lonely section of hell. There are no maps of the change. You just come out the other side. And you Mr. King, will have to come out the other side, or you don’t. “

“That has NOTHING to do with anything!” shouted Stephen as he struggled to stand.

As Flagg looked down at the gun he had found under Stephen’s bed..he turned it over as if to admire it.

“Well, since you made me famous…I…I just can’t do that Mr. King.”

Stephen slumped to the floor, he looked up though his pain, and saw…Annie…from Misery.

“What the &$*%^ are YOU doing here! Grab that gun…shoot that dog!” Stephen screamed.

“Well Mr. King…don’t you know you are in your own book right now?”

“I never wrote this crap. I would NEVER write crap. I am the best writer in the whole *$&%^ world!”

Annie smiled, ” Oh I begged to differ…you did write some crap and recently too. ..remember? It was all about taking guns from good law-abiding citizens…just because..what? Because you’re scared yourself Mr. King? Are you scared of us Mr. King? You should be. Don’t you remember? I am your number one fan.”

And with that she took the baseball bat that was displayed in the corner, the one that had been given to Stephen King during game 4 of the World Series in 2010 by the Boston Red Socks. It was one of his prized possessions because every single player on the team had signed it just for him.  And she…smashed his head so hard, he went down in one big lump.

As she kept beating him to a pulp…blood gushing out of his head onto the hardwood floor, the Devil cocked his head and smiled at Annie’s fury.

“God DAMN you, Mr. King!” Annie yelled. “I am your number one fan and you made me such a bitch!”

“That wasn’t any act of God. That was an act of pure human fuckery.” said Flagg.

Annie stopped…panting..she had broken the bat on the metal in his leg, —the metal which had been put there after he was hit by a truck.

As Stephen lay in desperation on the floor, his last thoughts were very blurred.  He knew he had another gun in the desk drawer, but he kept it locked. The key was in the kitchen…damn.  The words coming out of Stephen’s mouth were barely audible. He thought of his wife, his son, that girl he picked up in New Hampshire…

“Wait…Wait…”

“Goodbye Mr. King.” said Annie as she walked out the door.

Flagg (The Devil)  smiled, and said the same…”Yes, goodbye Mr. King…” and then  he tucked the gun in the back of his jeans, and walked out.

“Wait…Wait..the dog…”

Stephen barely made out the words. And then, Cujo got up, and dropped the foot bone still in his mouth. He started walking towards Stephen who was now lying helplessly on the floor..lifeless. As he put his teeth around Stephen’s neck a high-pitched voice cried out,

“CUJO! Down boy!  Come here!”  Cujo pulled away…slowly, and ran out the door.

Carrie (Carrie) walked into the large room where Stephen wrote his books. It was at this very desk that he had written his opinions on gun control.

Her eyes glossed over at the sight of the man who had made her famous. The man who had made her murder, and made himself millions.

“Why?” whispered King…”Why are you doing this?”

Carrie stood, her hair still bloody from the prom. “People don’t get better, they just get smarter. When you get smarter you don’t stop pulling the wings of flies, you just think of better reasons for doing it.”

“Goodbye Mr. King.” said Carrie.  All she had to do was look…and then the desk drawer with the gun burst into flame like a bomb had hit it. Slowly the flames licked the nearby curtains, than the books piled high on the library on the other wall started to burn too..

Carrie slowly walked outside the house. She walked over to Annie who was sitting on an old stump…

“People who try hard to do the right thing always seem mad.” said Carrie, as she looked down to the dirt beneath her feet. “Nobody likes to see a stupid guy wise up.”

Annie nodded, “You know, I think Stephen is right…they SHOULD take all the guns away from everybody. The more people who don’t have guns, the more us monsters can take over the world.  But you know, I sure thought he would put up more than that wimpy fight.”

Carrie, looked down at her dirty shoes, and placed her hand on the only part of her body that wasn’t covered in blood…her waist.

“Well, you know what he always said.—-”

“What?”

“Everything’s a lot tougher when it’s for real. That’s when you choke. When it’s for real.”

The End

Nobody Notes: There are real Stephen King quotes my story…in italics…see if you can find them.

And in honor of the great Stephen King…I also refuse to apologize.

January 28, 2013 - Posted by Joyanna Adams | American Culture, Gun Control, Uncategorized | Gun Control, Humor, Stephen King