This may have happened, but it did not happen to me. The scary part is, it may happen to you:
So, two months ago my daughter Clare was in that multiplex at the mall. She'd been dating this boy for a while, Joe. He was okay, a good kid. All those two wanted to do was have fun, the way young kids do, you know. But then that lunatic entered and mowed down half the theater, she was badly wounded. Joe died from a head wound.
Clare tells me he jumped in front of her to protect her. Good kid. Was gonna enlist when he finished school. But now I get nervous. In addition to my own grief, my wife Katie, my youngest boy Carl, well, we're a mess. We still don't know if Clare will regain use of her leg. Her doctors are doing all they can.
I’ve started drinking. It's temporary. Again. But it helps me sleep. I have weird dreams. Recurring dreams from which I awaken with a pain in the pit of my stomach. In these dreams I've gotten old and died and I'm about to enter heaven. I am overjoyed to see my mom coming towards me.
She looks exactly as I remember her and she's saying something to me, asking me a question.
— When those little Amish girls were killed by that sick man, she says, what did you do?
— I bought a handgun, I answer. And I argued with people over the 'sacred' status of the 2nd Amendment, I did.
— When those people in Aurora were massacred, what did you do?
— I bought another sidearm, I say, for Katie to carry. And I signed an NRA petition.
— And Columbine and Sandy Hook? she asks.
— After Sandy Hook, I answer again, I bought a different kind of gun, an AR-15, and a scope. And I wrote an email to my congressman.
— What did you do when Clare was maimed, she asks finally, when that boy gave up his life for her?
I wake up with a pain right here in the middle of my gut. Then I quietly make my way out to the garage where I typically hone my own bullets and stuff. My "man cave," my wife calls it.
We were at the range just the other day. Good time. Clare used to come along whenever my wife and I would go. She was a good shot. Now she can't stand even the sight of a gun.
I take a swig or two of good old J.D. Look up at the flag. I think of those damn protesters on the news. They’re taking over the streets. Why can't they understand that all lives matter?
Yeah, I’ve been having a bit of trouble sleeping. (Another swig.) I hear my wife getting up. She's worried about me. About something. I best get back to bed.