I confess, I am finding great pleasure in an unfamiliar source of aggression. But...but...before you pass judgment, you must know the source--the reason.
I do not own a gun. I never will. Yet, I DO Gunnit!
When?
Across intersections. Up curb cuts. Up skyway inclines.
My very survival depends upon it.
Gunnit!
Gunnit is one word, contrary to what you may think. With a walk signal lasting only a few seconds--with oncoming traffic--there is not a spare moment to waste. No time--no space--for the space between two words. The meaning is the same. Gun it. The urgency demands it, Gunnit.
Gunnit! Joy the Joystick, Gunnit!
The secret to my success--the key to greater confidence? Gunnit. At top speed--4--at the speed of a hare, success, and safety rule the day. Practice. Gunnit!
At the lowest speed--1--at the pace of a turtle, death comes in slow, excruciating motion. Horns honk. My heart pumps out of my chest. I will be run over. I will never get across the intersection. The offering of the Hail Mary prayer does not have a prayer.
Gunnit! Joy the Joystick, Gunnit!
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