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Drawings by Biagio Mastroianni

Story by Francesco Cincotta

It’s a pistol! … It’s her thing! … She has always played with toys.  She really wanted to be a boy.  Something in her moms’ belly put a stop to that.  You never knew the whole story; I’d bet she trade the skirts for pants if she could get away with it.

Of course she can’t … Saving face, you know.  Up there they can be tough, pistol packin’ really.  Like the boys.  Get down with ‘em and all … not quite do the dirty, but close.  Talk the same bullshit.  Yeah, she wants the Big Time.  And she’ll get it if she waves that thing around.

That’s what they like in their girls.  Pretence … They like to see them standing next to the kill.  Waving their piece at the camera with one foot on the corpse.  They’ll get it with her.  She likes the part.  Dressing-up.  All American style.  She has a Dale Evans fantasy: six guns and a yodel or two.  Yeah, That should be the end of it.
Her problem is she’s really cold.  Not cut out for the game as it was played in the past.  Those babes were real.  Packed ‘em fully loaded.  Had to then.  Boys were real boys … wanted real girls … not the rent type whose image you can pretend to own.  Flash here and there.  Nothin hot there … Just a toy that’s all … Just a toy, like her pistol

Down South, in the big cities, they play for keeps.  No bluff down there.  It’s big game for real.  She’s no match for the boys in those parts … They’ll play her along and then jettison the package out to sea with the rest of the trash.  It’s a shame … Should’ve stayed in her own league.  It’ll happen eventually … she’ll pull the trigger by mistake.  And then.  Maybe a tragedy … maybe not.  Piss a few of them off. The Wheeler dealers types.  Their looking for someone to pull the trigger.  Can’t do it themselves.  It’s a privacy issue.  She could level the playing field.

She might regret it  … maybe not.  Her type could adapt to the real sleeze.  No more play acting.  Live the real low-life … it has its hidden benefits.  Some learn to love it.  But mark my words …When she cashes-in she’ll be buried boots-up.