"Why'd ya do it?" She asked as she carefully inspected his wounds. His right leg was bloody where a round went through just above the knee. Another round hit his left hand and tore it up badly. It's a good thing he gave up playing the saxophone.
The least painful of his wounds was by far the scariest. A bullet had grazed his left ear but left only a small scratch above his eye. It could have been much worse.
"So why'd ya do it?", she asked again.
He smirked, "I dunno. I guess I was bored."
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This blog is a response to the 100 Word Challenge from Velvet Verbosity.
oh, goodness! If someone had told me he'd shot himself because he was bored . . . well, I have toilets to clean and dishes to wash if you're bored. :)
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