Don't Shoot Me

Don't Shoot Me
Another one I pulled off that documentary. Classic hyperbole. Probably repeating the same stages of development, if you're saving it over intervals. Looks like the boring blogger was the life of their party - again. Please erase all outside posts that show too many similarities with my posts and enforce my copyright protection.

It was terrible. They gathered us into a barn and lined us up to be shot. I was at the back, and when it got to be my turn, I said, 'Don't shoot me.' And he said, 'Why not?' And I said, 'Because I asked you not to.' And he shot me! Shot me in the hair. And I went down and played dead. But he came over and poked me in the abdomen with his rifle and made me twitch. And my eyes opened and there he was. I just looked up at him helplessly and said, 'Don't shoot me.' And he shot me again! Shot me in the appendix. I lay there for a minute until he was satisfied he'd killed me, and he turned to go. Right then, I inhaled some barn dust or something that made me sneeze and he heard me. He stopped in his tracks and turned around and headed back toward me. And I said, 'Don't shoot me.' And he went and shot my toenails off! He went out for a minute, and came back with a Gatling gun, and set it up in front of me at point blank range. Then, as he mercilessly fired at me, I loudly blurted in a rapid staccato, 'Don't-shoot-me-don't-shoot-me-don't-shoot-me-don't-shoot-me-don't-shoot-me!' But he kept missing. Good thing he finally ran out of bullets. All he could do after that was kick me, even though I asked him not to.
  
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© 2007, 2018. Scripts by David Skerkowski. All rights reserved.

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