Especially after the year twenty-two hundred and thirty first
When, for the first dream, the dream of Colt
Exploded everywhere; except it was laser bolts
And that wasn’t the worst.
They were cheap. They were easier to make.
There were kits, like for baking a cake.
You could get a laser on any streetcorner, easily
I would have is somebody hadn’t zapped me.
Good old human ingenuity
Good enough for you and me
But not good enough for those
Who’ve been brought up to blast through your chest and clothes
(Not necessarily in that order;
Although it’s different south of the border.)
But as usual, Heinlein said it, and it turned out fine:
An armed society is polite as landmine.
Sure, a lot of people died
But most of them were annoying and fried
To the pleasure and cheering of those surrounding
(Except for those whose deaths they were founding.)
What would I do with a laser blaster?
Don’t ask. It would be a depression.
I’m embarrassed about mathematics
So I feel bad about the schematics:
I’d only zap 90%
Barely enough to steal their wallets for rent
I’d leave someone to make burgers, and old television
That’s plenty of time for altered vision.
And once they’re dead, I’ll be chill
(With their bodies on ice, I know I will.)
I promise not to murder everyone;
I’ll leave that to EVERYONE ELSE with a laser gun.
____________-
www.patreon.com/thatjeffmach has lots of free content.
You can also pick up my books and audiobooks under “Jeff Mach” on Amazon and Audible.
Comments are closed.