Blogbuster - A comedy-laced blogger sci-fi thriller

10 - Pull the Trigger

Gotta luv ze technology.

“Let’s see what this baby can do.”

Trigger took the self-printed AR rifle outside while Nick followed him with the record mode still on.

They left the ranch house, moved into the light of the late afternoon sun. It was a bright day for a tight prey. Trigger walked around the backyard and onto the range. It was almost a thousand meters in length, perfect for any target practice. What a great idea to set up the printing facility next to the range, far away from the city’s crowded districts.

No pestering neighbors saying,

“Hey ya gun jerk, stop making all that racket. Not everyone can sleep to the noise of bullet shots.”

No government officials to get in the way,

“Excuse me, sir. Can I see your license again ?”

Just him, the baby, Nick, and a loyal community of thousands of gun lovers.

“Ready, guys ?”

The word ‘Yes’ appeared as a hundred eighty-five people flooded the screen in a flurry of comments. Trigger imagined them sitting in front of their screens all over the world, their eyes burned onto the pixel display, waiting for him to unleash the fireworks. 

Ready when you are.

He put on his Anti-Impact hearing protectors, 3D printed, of course, and motioned Nick to do the same. Trigger held up the AR rifle and took aim at his self-made troll puppet, located about four hundred fifty-three meters down range. Trigger glanced at Nick’s eScroll which was wrapped around his arm.

“In case you don’t know me, my name is Trigger, and today, on this sun-soaked range, I’m going to test model 2.0 of my DIY redesigned AR-15 rifle. This time, I’m going to use corrosive 5.45 × 39mm rounds.”

Nick nodded. Smiley faces and other emoticons appeared on the video blog page. The world was watching, at least the part that mattered to him. Trigger pulled, um, the trigger.

His 3D printed baby went ratatatatatatatata. The AR rifle shook and spit bullets across the field. They shredded the troll puppet, sending shards through the air like confetti.

Ratatatatatatatatatata.

Nick filmed everything. He knew how to position himself to capture Trigger’s best shooting angle.

Ratatatatatata.

The advanced resolution was going look stellar during live video broadcasting. Even awesomer, once the video was filmed, the boys were able to upload an extra slowmo version that would expose every detail up close. An extra gungasm for the premium subscribers that followed Trigger’s video blog since day one.

Ratatatatatata.

Over a hundred shots later, Trigger got into flow. Maybe this time, he was going to break a new record. But then he slammed in a new mag, pulled the trigger and felt the AR-15 cranking out an odd noise. A burned plastic smell elicited from the rifle. The overheated barrel bowed down like a penis losing its juice. The lower receiver ejected like a safety pod, the magazine melted into the grip, and Trigger sighed as the rifle dissolved into its separate parts. They crumbled to the ground as smoke blew into the air.

Dicked up. 

It was fun while it blasted. 

Trigger knelt down, picked up the battered parts from the ground and showed them to Nick, who was busy zooming in for the dirty details.

“Rest in pieces, oh sweet DIY AR-15. Your short life will be remembered.”

Dozens of sad emoticons popped up on the live comment stream.

“Oh man, so sorry, Trigger.”

“I really thought you’re going to reach three hundred rounds today.”

“Your effort will not be in vain.”

Trigger smiled as he read through the flurry of comments. What a caring community, considering they were mostly males with more testosterone than the hulk brigade.

“Don’t fret, guys. We almost reached two hundred shots today. Way better than the hundred rounds with version 1.0, remember ?”

Oh, they remembered. It was only two and a half months ago. 

“Today two hundred, next month three, guys. Always leveling up in life. Besides, look at the bright side. At least I don’t need to clean it.”

He waved his live community goodbye, did his trademark salute. Over and out, my Trigger-happy friends.”

Nick smiled and stopped the recording. Trigger shook his hands.

“Thanks for filming, man.”

“Hey, no probs. It was an honor to be with you today. Next month, we’re going to crack five hundred rounds before burning up the plastic.”

“For sure.”

They left the range and went back inside the house. In the living room, Trigger put on some classic eighties rock, opened the freezer, took out two chilled Hefeweizen with a dash of lemonade, poured them into glasses, handed one over to Nick. He walked towards the thirty-two inch screen and uploaded the gun footage taken at the range earlier. It was time to slowmo the material.

In the middle of the work, a noise went beep beep on Trigger’s eScroll. Special alert sound he set up for VIM’s — Very Important Messages. Trigger checked his device and saw his confirmation mail for the Blogbuster show. Speed-read through the usual yadda yadda till he saw his invitation for the actual event. 

The person in charge called him, shared the details. 

Trigger nodded, smiled. 

Thanks again, he told the female voice over the encrypted channel. He smiled his biggest one, showing all of his teeth. He did it. Final contestant with seven rival vloggers. Yes sir. Reason enough to give a bro hug to smiling Nick.

The mission was well on track.