By gisy

>be small town gunsmith

>only sorta, just guy with a small shop and likes funs

>work on the local’s durr rifles, the odd pistol

>tools start disappearing and reappearing weeks later

>realize I might have a gremlin hanging around

>leave out bowl of werthers, it’s gone the next day, wrappers everywhere

>yep, gremlin

>decide to leave her be since she only borrows the tools

>weeks go by

>she starts messing with presets on the lathe

>changing bits in the press down a size while i’m at lunch

>swaps oil in oiler for cream

>fuck’n bitch is gonna die now

>tear shop apart, find person size hole in floor behind furnace heading underground

>lady walks in while i’m staring down hole

>asks me to sight her grandfather’s ‘06, it’s beat to shit

>leave hole, take gun out pound a couple, dial it in, put back on rack

>lady comes back to pick it up

>starts going off that I scratched it and demanding that she gets the sighting for free

>while the bitch is losing it, gremlin appears behind her

>she’s got this weird mechanical backpack with tentacles, two have funny looking flowers at the ends

>that shit eating grin is freaking me out

>lady is still ranting when the tentacles grab and hog-tie her arms behind her back

>lady gets pinned face first to the floor with her ass in the air

>another tentacle rips her clothes off and the two flower ends line up their pistils on her holes

>lady starts screaming something unintelligible

>I jump in between gremlin and lady

>lady takes the chance to escape, gravel spraying as she floors in down the driveway

>gremlin shrugs: “your welcome.”

>”please don’t rape the customers” I reply, watching the fleeing car

>I’m never gonna get another client

>gremlin is staring into my back

>”only if I get werthers everyday”

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