The Great Promoter

1,000 rounds a minute you should see this baby in action, ain’t she cute.

The salesman has the smug grin on one surrounded by firepower, rendering himself safe in all situations, no one can touch me. The young man holds the powerful gun, thinks, 1,000

rounds a minute, he wonders how it’s possible.

The bodies lie in heaps, blood coats the floor, so much potential gone so much pain has risen, the usual suspects rush to the scene, the politician uses the moment for his own gain, doesn’t have time for pity, power doesn’t have any feelings at all, never had, when it was from men it came.

1,000 rounds a minute, is that the equivalent of a bomb dropped from ten thousand, probably a lot worse. Padded shoulders, two holsters, Armour coated body, infra red head gear, so much is spent on the great promotion, the war.


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