A Nugget Story
>once upon a time
>be no gunz
>go to gun store
>look at all the rifles
>finger fuck a bunch
>no boners happening
>pick up Mosin
>feels good man
>get invited to the back to pick one out of the crate
>find old hex head, nice wood, kinda pretty
>taste the cosmoline
>gun store man laughs
>clean new gun
>go to range, pop a few
>gun works better when it's treated with angry cossack hands
>wake up to girl sitting in chair beside bed
>stern looking short girl, twin pony tails, fine facal features
>school uniform with a short skirt under a huge green wool trenchcoat
>feet don't touch the foor
>both scream like little girls
>thrashing out of the bed manage to hit head on dresser
>wake up to find girl gone
>grab mosin from beside bed
>best impression of a conscript clearing a house
>last corner into livingroom
>peek around corner
>face to face with little girl
>both duck behind corner
>she's standing at the corner legs wide, arm pointed at me
>"how dare you touch me!"
>be reasonable guy
>try to calmly explain that no touching was, or is, involved
>"I'll tell the commissar!"
>since when did we have commissars?
>title IX exists, so it's not a stretch...
>"put me down this instant you filthy capitalist!"
>oh hell no
>no fucking commies are going to start squatting in this house
>loudly demand who the fuck she is and how she got into the house
>she tears up a bit and runs through the wall
>or maybe into the wall
>she's not on the other side
>pretty sure stranger things have been seen
>welp, time for tea
>brew in grandma's royal albert
>leave it on table
>time for shit, shower, shave
>come back to magical justice commie sitting at the table drinking out my favorite tea cup
>bitch as the mosin beside her
>"sit down, we drink tea like civilized peoples, We talk."
>not so much of an animal to refuse caffine
>begin to ask her who she is
>she interrupts "I is gun"
>that's not an answer
>"me, gun, same. Even an american can figure this out."
>politely explain that guns don't look like poeple
>girl nods "of course, is very true. I am not a human."
>as if this explains anything
>"I come from gun, I am gun"
>brooding silence with more tea
>ask her why she isn't shooting me
>"would never shoot owner, then would have no one to play with."
>ask why she's in my house
>she's looking like she's conversing with a retard
>"this is where you keep me, we are comrades now"
>explain that I'm not a communist
>she brushes the statement off with a wave of the hand
>"no one perfect, as long as much shootings we will be fine."
>leave to go to work
>gotta be that poorfag supporting the banking cabal
>girl waves from the door "have good day working for jew masters, capitalist wage slave!"
>the sincere smile and wave rubs the salt a bit deeper
>cab of a T800 is usually a relaxing place away from people
>3208 cat laced with the turbo is better music than anything than nashville could ever produce
>can't seem to enjoy it
>that damn girl is eating away at my thoughts
>go through the events of the morning
>haven't made any real progress on the issue when I pull up into the driveway
>greeted by an entrenched fighting position containing a little girl holding a mosin taller then she is
>glad there's no HOA
>first she moves in and then digs up the lawn
>reach down to drag her out and give her a dressing-down
>instead get it reversed
>she's demanding to know why there's no garden
>specifcally, why there's no potatoes
>tell her clean up her shit
>if she wants potatoes she can plant them herself
>she's indignant "do I look like plow? Is gun!"
>tell her that she isn't acting like a gun
>compare her to a termite
>get a pouty face complete with puffy cheeks in response
>try to be the adult
>promise to think about the garden for the back yard if she cleans up her hole
>instant mood change
>she's skreetching and running around my legs in circles
>turn around to unlock the door
>girl barges past dusting off her hands
>go to close the door
>catch sight of perfect, unmarred lawn
>ask girl if she wants some
>she declines but will sit for more tea
>tell her that I think she's a fairy
>she cocks her head
>explain that it's like a sprit
>huge shit eating grin "yes, yes! you're not so dumb!"
>her bait is bad and she should feel bad
>ask if she has a name
>the way she says it sounds like mois nuggan
>decide she'll be called nugget
>head to the couch
>pick up the canucks vs l.a. game
>fall asleep at first intermission
>wake up in overtime to find the rifle across my knees
>nugget is snuggled up against my chest fast asleep
>she seems bigger somehow
>damn ghost/sprit/fairy thing might be an asshole, but she's kinda cute when she's like this
>wrap an arm around her
>the soft snoring gets an added "meep" before we both pass back into sleep
>wake up to a shirt soaked with a dinner plate pool of drool and cold lap
>sun beating in the blindless window
>extract from the couch and peel the slimy shirt off
>hit the three "s" again
>come back down to find a pot of tea brewing and a small pansy in a vase on the table
>fucking gun ghost
>she might be alright