Story #1

I keep putting off writing entries until I have more time... which probably won't be for a while. So I have decided to write more frequent mini entries, so writing about what happened to me wouldn't be such a colossal task.

So the most obvious question: How did I get my hands on a gun?

No, I didn't go buy it. No, I didn't steal it. Here is what happened.

When my brother died last year, I went to his apartment before my parents got there. I went through his stuff, mostly to clear his drug paraphenalia(because as upset as my parents were over his death, to have to get rid of drugs and various related accoutrements would have been just shitty for my parents). I flushed all the weed down the toilet, threw away all the bongs and rolling papers. And then I came across his handgun under his bed, with a case of bullets and adjacent to a box of condoms.

I don't know what possessed me to do what I did next: I packed it in a box and shipped it back to Boston for myself. Why the fuck I would do that, I still do not understand fully. It was just instinctive, because I knew I didn't want my parents to see it, but I didn't want to throw it away, either. I wanted to keep it, because something inside me told me that I would never have this easy access to a gun ever again. So I went to Kinko's, bought a box and some bubble paper, and packed it and shipped it overnight to my apartment. So those of you wondering if you can ship a gun and some bullets via FedEx: why, yes. you can.

And that's how I got my hands on a gun.