The Finger Behind the Trigger

A MONOLOGUE

(A rugged looking man with a black cowboy hat sits in an old wooden rocking chair. The man’s brownish beard is now, for the majority of the hair, grey. He speaks with a rasp in his voice, as he is a man who has had far too much experience with alcohol. He’s obviously been worn down with his actions over the years.)

MAN: You want to see the guns? There’s nothing wrong with those guns. They fire a bullet faster than the eye can see, which means no one can possibly dodge them, which, I’m guessing, is what a young boy like you wants? Swords. That’s what I wish men fought with. We used to fight with them, but now it’s guns, guns, guns. Imagine you were asking me about my swords that had killed fifty three men. I would probably tell you where they were crafted, how they were crafted, and how to use it. Now look at us. I can show you my guns, but somewhere out there someone’s got a slicker one… a more expensive one. You know how to use it: you pull the trigger. But here’s the thing boy… can you do it? Those guns didn’t do nothing. They’re the same as they always were. They don’t know how many men they’ve killed, or going to kill. It’s the man who changes. Somewhere down the line, the kids, like yourself, imagine that the guns are the reason. The fact that I’ve killed so many men, well it’s got to be the guns, because a man isn’t possibly capable of such things. Think back a while to when men didn’t have guns, swords, or even sticks. He used his hands. Barbaric, isn’t it? So what’s changed? Man still kills, but he kills with different weapons. But deep down, those weapons aren’t changing: they still kill. And the man… he changes. You want to see the notorious guns that killed fifty three men? I ask you first to take a good look at the man in front of you, sitting here with a bottle of Canadian whiskey in his left hand, and a rifle in the other, all the while longing for the days when innocence still had a meaning. So, you still want to see the guns?