Personal Narrative: Bring A Knife To A Gun

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“Let me guess, he’s behind me?”
“No, actually he is standing in front of you.”
Before I could react my side felt like it was being stung by a million bees and the floor is the color of his favorite shoes, red.
“Was that supposed to hurt?” I laughed while pulling the knife out of my side, “Is that really all you can do? Just a knife, I mean come on! What kind of person brings a knife to a gun show?”
Not giving him any time to answer I shot. The room goes silent, all you can hear is the sound of the bullet piercing him in the chest. He falls knocking over the chairs around him like dominos.

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