Pistol Glory

Story time. I once had an old buddy who never stopped complaining about his issued pistol. Said the damn thing was nothing but a firecracker—good for noise and maybe scaring cowards. Then one day we got pinned behind a rock, surrounded, couldn't even stick our heads out. All I had left was the pistol on my hip. He said we were finished. So I drew that pistol, screamed like a madman, charged out there, and dropped every last one of them! Afterward, he asked me for the gun and carried it with him from then on. All right, story's over. Now it's your turn to make a pistol shine.