Buy a gun from a drunk you meet while stumbling around wasted
You find yourself in a short series of bars. So drunk its all a primal haze by now. You are more or less unconscious and still going by a programmed instinct to drink. You meet a man there in the bar, you forget his name and details before you even leave the bar but he sells you a handgun in the bathroom. A rusty looking forty five with its serial number filed off. Its still warm. You remember only that you bought it from some dim gray person in some bar or other as you reel down the street. Its like your dreaming while still awake. A chill and stinging wind, with particles of salt biting your skin like a kansas dust storm. Your mood changes and sadness and despair kick in. You don't even know where you are. You slip into an alley to vomit. The gun is loaded and cocked. As you fumble with your pants for a piss you somehow manage to make the gun fire. The fat bullet enters right above your penis and blows a large nasty exit wound that spits out fragments of your spine. You cannot move, your body is sprawled amongst filth. This is where you die. Some homeless person finds your body. He takes your empty wallet, shoes and the gun and moves on.
