Boom.

I haven't heard the sound of my gun firing for years. It sounds just like the day I first went hunting. With all the bullets exploding and the refreshing pulling of the bolt... the kick of the rifle sends me back, with the recoil being absorbed by my arms...

"What in the blazin' heat?!" I yelled out, shortly after pulling the trigger. A trail of smoke lingered, following the end of my barrel as I cocked the rifle, bringing the scope back into my eye as I prepared another shot. The first one missed since I was trying to avoid a pet of someone's. I had no idea what sort of stunt they were trying to pull off, but it would probably end up killing something in the end. I held the rifle tight as it kicked again like a horse, not being able to watch the bullet as it pierced the giant mole's chest. No, I was cocking my rifle for the third time. I scrambled for the handle as the beast came alarmingly closer, along with the parade it was bringing along with it.

Normally, I'd call for help from my community, try to get 20 people to bring an arsenal of 50 guns. Unfortunately, the phone lines were dead, and I didn't like the idea of carrying a small black smartphone around. Those things were as confusing as heck.

At last, at last. The thing bloody stumbled thanks to one of them. With a perfect line of sight, I let off my fourth shot as suddenly everything lost sound. Within a second, you see a cloud of pink not too far away. Whether that struck his neck or head, it worked. I think I need to meet with either Mr. Miracle or Mr. Luck.