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An ice cream truck stopped nearby, blaring a song from its speakers, providing a surreal soundtrack to the terrible scene that was about to happen. He recognized the tune as Turkey in the Straw, evoking memories of boyhood lyrics for the song.

Do your boobs hang low?

Do they wobble to and fro?

Can you tie ‘em in a knot?

Can you tie ‘em in a bow?

Shielding his eyes from the sun, he scanned the crowd for his target. After a few anxious moments, he found it, and a reassuring calm came over him. All doubts vanished as he focused on why he was here, and what he’d sacrificed to make this moment a reality.

Setting his canvas bag on the ground and unzipping it, he pulled out a Bushmaster M17S assault rifle. Bringing the gun up to a firing position, he heard a shout from nearby, and knew his time was limited. Focusing on his target, he aimed and pulled the trigger. The gun jumped to life in his hands, burping out a quick salvo of rounds.

Do your boobs hang low? thuk-thuk-thuk-thuk

Had he hit it? The screams began, and panic tightened his chest, convinced some brave soul was going to rush him at any moment and prevent him from completing his mission. Reflexively, he swung the gun from side to side, holding the trigger tightly as the bullets delivered random death and pain.

Do they wobble to and fro? thuk-thuk-thuk-thuk-thuk-thuk-thuk

Gushes of red spurted and sprayed as the victims jerked like marionettes, then slumped to the ground as if their strings had been cut.

He returned his attention to the target. There could be no doubt. He aimed again, but someone charged him from the side. Turning quickly, he squeezed off a burst into the man’s chest.

thuk-thuk-thuk

The would-be hero flew backwards, dead before he hit the ground. Turning the gun back to the other side, the bullets again ripped through the crowd, hot angry metal chewing through yielding flesh, sending more bodies tumbling down.

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