”“Nobody treats me like that!” and he pulled a gun.The bouncer screamed, “DO NOT SHOOT! I AIN’T ARMED!”“That is your tough luck,” and ...ulled the trigger. The bullet hit the bouncer in the fleshy part of his arm, and I saw that the gun was an ancient Colt Pocket Pistol. Hell, I didn’t even know that any of those miserable excuses for guns still existed. The pistol was .30 caliber and currently considered a joke. Nevertheless, the gun could still kill if the shooter were lucky, but the range had. "No, not really," he joked. "What's wrong, babe?" Stop fuckin' calling me that!" I blurted out. Just then, I felt a tap on my ass. "What the--" I turned around to see one of my supposedly close friends."Faggot!" he laughed, walking past Jordan. This angered him, and without second thought, he tackled my friend."Don't you EVER fuckin' call him that again, you fuckin' douche bag!" He punched him one good time in the face, spilling blood on the white floor. There was a crowd around us three, and I. More

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