Oh, little buddy, this hurts. It hurts me worse than any hurt the family of someone killed for no reason could feel. When so many of my friends abandoned me due to my rightful use of you, you stuck by my side — usually right on my hip — no matter what.
I think you’re my only true friend because well, I’m a festering pile of human garbage that should be burned alive and my ashes should pissed out by frat boys who’ve subsided on a diet of Four Loko and asparagus for the last week. It pains me so much to have to tell you this, but I have to give you, my Kel-Tec PF-9 9mm pistol, away… for profit.
Don’t look at me with that sad eye! The #BlackLivesMatter thugs I cry about every night in my empty house in beautiful Sanford, Florida before I masturbate to a copy of the 2nd Amendment that I printed out from internet have brought me to this place. Those jerks backed me into a corner where I feel financially threatened and I must stand my ground by selling you to whatever kind anti-race-mixing patriot makes the best offer. Don’t worry, they’ll take you to their farm upstate where they’ll hide you in a bunker they built for the impending civil war. And when that doesn’t come, because it’s all in their head, I’m sure they’ll use you to do something terrible to a women’s health provider. You’ll have a good life.
I know we’ve been through a lot together. We took that trip to Disney World. We killed Trayvon Martin. We got away with killing Trayvon Martin. Giving you away for a profit doesn’t change any of that! It’ll still be part of me when I do whatever disgusting thing I do next. However I spit in the eye of humanity next, you’ll be there in spirit. Maybe I’ll push pediatric cancer patients down some stairs or run over puppies with my truck. Whatever I do, you’ll be there. I wanted you to be the last thing I saw before I died but we can’t be that lucky… sometimes life is crazy.