Its A Bullet’s Life


I spent my life in Close quarters with many others of my kind.

Until one fine day, I was cramped and squashed

Into a narrow and tight fitting container

With just enough space for my nose

To get a sniff at the refreshing and lovely air around me.

Sandwiched as I was between two others of my kind.

My first memory was one of intense heat

During which I am sure my rights were grossly violated.

On cooling down, a cylindrical canister was wedged,

With no hope of removal, onto my rear end.

It felt heavy and full of ominous foreboding.

It was at this moment that I truly became conscious

Of the millions of others of my kind around me.

After being sandwiched for some time

And jostled about in who-knows-what,

Our confined home was picked up by a great large and fleshy thing

Something like I have never seen before

And rammed with wanton violence and force

Deep into a dark and tight enclosure.

During the short trip to this cavity from our jostling home of long,

I caught a glimpse of a grand and vast world

With massive structures and many large things that moved around.

One being the owner of the fleshy thing that was our means of transport.

All around there were many others like it, all doing the same

To yet many hundreds more canisters like mine.

Although this was disturbing enough in itself

There was one more sight that had me very worried indeed.

I just could not help noticing a multitude of others like me

Hurtling through the air in all directions

And seemingly totally uncontrolled in their manner.

Their flight ending only when they smash off a wall

Or bury themselves with a spurt of red liquid in the flesh of our “Masters”.

‘Is this possible?’ I thought to myself,

In the relative peace of that dark enclosure where I and my buddies,

Above and below, found ourselves.

‘Is our sole reason of existence purely to fly around

At the whim of our obviously nutty Masters?

The results of which do not seem to be too much in our favour.’

Suddenly we started to jerk up the enclosure,

Until I could finally see a thin, long and shiny tunnel,

The walls of which were totally smooth save for some grooves

That spiraled their way to the far end and the light.

Now I knew that my time on this crazy world was drawing to a close.

As if on cue of my despairing sigh, my back-pack (as I got to call it)

Exploded with such enormous and fiery force

That I was forced, squeezed through the far too narrow tunnel.

‘I must go on a diet!’ I said to myself.

As I hit the grooves I began to turn and spin

Increasing with speed the further I got through the tunnel.

Once free of the tunnel and spinning enough to make me sick

I noticed that I too was charging through the air without control

Heading straight for a “Master” who is sending hundreds

And more of my buddies into oblivion.

Would it be a soft death during which I will get a close-up view

Of the insides of this strange creature that insists

On sending us hurtling at another of their kind?

Or would it be a sudden impact style ending

Where I would become a splattered costing on the wall?

Whichever it will be, neither fit into my plans for the future.

But how am I going to stop myself?

Here I am flying through space at high speed

With nothing with which I could slow myself down

Or either change my direction.

How, oh how am I going to stop myself?

I must use will power, yes – will power.

The problem was what to do, as will power was not in short supply.

What form of action should I attempt that could give me control?

Obviously, my current shape was designed for minimum friction and total accuracy.

Without denying the fact that it is a feature that I am rather proud of;

I cannot ignore the futility of that feature in helping out of my present predicament.

So, some type of metamorphism seems the only option.

‘METAMORPHISM?? What the hell am I saying?

How am I going to change this sleek and smooth body of mine

such that I will be able to exert some control on my future.

Will Power and Metamorphosis, do they complement each other?

You’re running out of time old boy, get cracking and make a decision.

So Will Power and Metamorphosis it is.’

Hurtling through the air directly at a target and at high speed

is not the best of times for following a decision-making process

Instant decisions are critical in such situations.

And I have wasted enough time deliberating on what to do

Now I must go ahead and do!

Whether it is feasible or not I will only know if I survive to know.

So gathering all the force of mind and will that I could summon

I began to concentrate on developing some wind vanes

with which I would be able to slow myself and alter direction.

My target, a Master who was spraying us around, was now very close indeed

Time was truly running out, slipping through my grasp like sand.

Concentration – Will Power – Push and Push again.

Phew, this is tiring work, but lo and holy look something happening.

Two small bulges have appeared on either side of my sleek shape.

La di da, and La di da, It is working.

Ok, again… Concentration – Will Power – Push and Push yet again.

Hey, the bulges are growing bigger and bigger but not big enough yet.

Come on, come on nearly there, and soon I will have control.

I decided I had better check the situation as to my target.

So I look up, but hey there’s nothing there

just a splash of dark and dirty orange, the type that one associates with bricks.

What the…..Where, how, what, oh no!!

I’ve managed to miss the other ‘Master’ and am heading straight for the wall

So much for all the effort, those little things have proved useless.

Goodbye world that I never knew

SPLAT!

© Mike Gatt 2005

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