A.J. Walker

writerer

Shooting Unicorns is Bad Form

Shooting Unicorns is Bad Form
George was an addict – if it moved he shot it. No qualms at all. He’d been taken to court many times, mainly for shooting seals. You can’t shoot seals, they said. Protected and cute. But he always got off. Men you see; guns and the American way. Bang bang.
George knew he had a problem though and began to limit his shooting to one animal a day. Preferably something not protected, but sometimes… well, you can only shoot what presents itself.
He shot the unicorn right through the temple. He’d never seen one before. He’d been fairly sure that they were only in fairytales. But there it was; a perfect, bleach white unicorn, flowing mane and a proud single golden horn. Sublime: and in his sights.
Of course the media frenzy was distasteful afterwards. How was he to know they’d been shooting a film on the beach? He hadn’t noticed the starlet riding the unicorn. George had been surprised when the papier-mache horn crumpled as the horse fell dead to the sand.
He probably wouldn’t have shot it, if he’d known it was just a horse.
He definitely wouldn’t have shot it if he’d known he was to face an all woman jury. The gavel fell twice. Bang bang!

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WC: 210 words
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