As Timothy stirred cereal around in his bowl pretending to eat his mother raced in and out of the sterile kitchen packing his bag for middle school.
“Its time to go honey,” she said while whisking away his uneaten breakfast. “The bus is almost here!”
Timothy slouched out of his chair and donned the miniature backpack thrust upon him. In a moment he was out of the kitchen, indistinguishable from countless others, and being steered by his mother out the back door and towards the bus stop. The morning air was crisp and chilled and Timothy could see his breath slightly against the darker backgrounds of the neighborhood. His mother began frisking him over making sure he had his mittens and school supplies. She suddenly stopped with a look of alarm on her face.
“Oh my God, I forgot! Wait right here and tell the bus to wait if it comes, I will be right back!” Timothy’s mother rushed away back towards the house and disappeared inside. Timothy stood on the grey sidewalk, a tiny figure bundled up and still. He heard the distant rumbling of a great engine and soon could see the large yellow school bus approaching around the corner of his suburb. An instant later he heard the front door open and his mother emerged carrying a small brown object. She rushed to him just as the bus pulled up, its brakes hissing their annoyance at the delay.
“You almost forgot this again,” his mother gasped, thrusting the case into his arms. It was a holster made of fine brown leather. Barely visible from one end was the butt of a pug-nosed revolver. The way in which the leather seemed to cradle the gun made it look dainty to an observer but to Timothy it was heavy and cold. He stared at it blankly. The bus doors opened and the kind hearted driver called out something but Timothy didn’t hear.
“I remember when I first started I would forget mine all the time,” said the woman driver. Timothy looked up at her, his attention returning. She smiled a big wide smile which made her look loving and slightly like a toad.
“You remember eventually.”
She patted her waist on which was clipped a massive pistol.
After being kissed repeatedly by his mother Timothy got on the bus and was soon on his way to school.
As the bus drove Timothy sat down at a completely free row of seats and moved to sit at the window. He watched the small identical houses go past; their lawns covered in wet Fall leaves. After a few stops another boy who had sat next to Timothy on the bus before got on. He moved slowly down the bus, judging where the stigmas of childhood society would permit him to sit free from scorn or threat. Finally he sat once again next to Timothy. The bus lurched onwards. They had exchanged words in the past, they had even compared guns once. The other boy, Michael, had a Beretta. It was light weight and his parents thought it best for him so he could wear it comfortably during Sports class.
Timothy began to think subconsciously about Michaels gun and he drifted into one of his common place daydreams. He remembered hearing there was still debate amongst law makers whether or not personal defense arms should be worn in classes such as Sports. Only until recently firearms were permitted to be removed during, what the government called, the “S” times; sleep, sports, sex and sickness. But now, with newer safety methods, it was required to wear them during “permitting non-water” sports. As the bus rolled on Timothy began remembering the speech given by the man who came to visit the school. He was from some program Timothy couldn’t remember the name of. He spoke about gun control and how it was law that everyone capable carried a personal defense arm. Studies showed crime went down dramatically if we all carry guns. There was some evidence Timothy remembered but his mind moved quickly onwards. He thought about the classes he had gone to about how to store a gun safely.
There were great concerns for safety if a firearm was somehow accidentally discharged during class or if perhaps a loosing team was enraged by their loss and in the heat of the moment something happened. But so far nothing had happened. People all across the land were safer because of gun control…
“I can set a braggart quailing with a quip,
The upstart I can wither with a whim;
He may wear a merry laugh upon his lip,
But his laughter has an echo that is grim!”
