Written in 2024, taking place at pawn shop around 2014, “No Bullets, Please” is a short story by BW Derge about a customer named Jimmy, a store owner that goes by Dean, and a college girl shopping for a film camera. This is a reimagining of a similar short story written around the time this one takes place…
No Bullets, Please.
The final afternoon hours were setting with the Sun through the blinds of a pawn shop when a thin awkward man in his forties strolled in. The shopkeeper was busy helping a customer who needed to purchase a camera for a college project or something. The skinny man was named Jimmy and he sported a beige winter jacket and matching khaki pants, and at the moment was pretending to browse old video games in a discount bin.
“If you’re not interested in digital, then this is really all I’ve got other than some junk cameras. Not sure those even work.”
The college student continued to examine the camera. “Can I see some of those?”
“Sure,” the older fellow grunted. “I got a box of ‘em. One second, ma’am.”
“Thanks!”
Now Jimmy was at a display case combing glittery pieces of jewelry with an intense, anxious stare. The owner of this establishment passed him as he collected the box of crap cameras. “You need help with anything, bud?”
He shook his head fast in reply, shooting a suspicious glance at the other customer in the store. “No, just looking around, thank you.”
The heavier man sighed and walked on. “Just let me know if you need help with anything.” He dropped the box on the glass counter near the register and said, “Help yourself. Let me know if you see anything you like. I didn’t know people still used film cameras,” he chuckled.
“It’s for school,” she stated as her focus tightened on the handful of old contraptions collecting dust in a worn out cardboard box.
“Fair enough.” He looked over at Jimmy, who was now pretending to be interested in a rack of old sports jerseys, mostly from retired professional players from the local city’s football team. “You sure you don’t need help with something, sir?”
Jimmy’s nervous stature acted like his body had just been squeezed by an invisible giant’s fist. “What? No, no, I don’t think so.”
The owner of the pawn shop, whose handle is Dean, shuffled to the other side of the counter and got sort of close to Jimmy and said, at a volume only the two of them could hear, “Look man, if you’re trying to buy a gun or some old playboys or something, it’s fine. I sure as shit don’t care and that young lady only care about one thing right now and that’s those old cameras. So what’s up, man?”
Relaxing just the tiniest bit, Jimmy leaned in even closer and whispered, “I need a gun, but no bullets.”
“No bullets?”
He nodded. “Yes. A scary looking gun, maybe some blanks? How do blanks work?”
Dean took a step back and headed toward a different end of the store. “Over here, bud.” He slapped one of the glass counters that separated the back half of the business from the front. “Find anything, ma’am?”
She shook her head but said, “I think so. There’s two I like, though. Can I bring it back if it’s broken and exchange it for the other?”
“You get what you pay for, honey, but I’ll tell you what, if you give me ten bucks for one, I’ll give you the other on the house.”
“Deal.” She pulled a twenty out of her short jeans shorts’ pocket, got her change, and went on her way to take some pictures…
Once she was out, Dean felt more free to speak louder as he walked over to the guns for sale and our thin friend Jimmy. “So what you mean ‘no bullets?’ You filming a movie or something? I don’t have any blanks, I’m afraid.”
“No, no movie,” he replied. “My home was recently broken into and I, well, uh…” A little smile popped on his face for the quickest moment there before he continued, “I said loudly, ‘I have a gun,’ you know? And by golly, it worked. The person ran right out the backdoor.”
“No fooling. Man, that’s crazy, bud.”
“Right, so it got me thinking, you know, what if I hadn’t gotten so lucky and the burglar called my bluff? It’d be much better to actually have a gun, but in all honesty, I just don’t want to have the bullets. I don’t want to be able to kill anyone, especially myself.”
“Uh huh.”
“But with blanks, you see, I could still make the noise. Do blanks actually shoot anything, could they kill someone?”
“I’m no expert on blanks, I’m afraid,” Dean replied. “But I’m sure it’s worth an internet search. You call the cops on the guy?”
Jimmy nodded. “Of course. I filed the report for insurance purposes and whatnot, keeping the community safe.”
“Alright, so what kind of firearm you looking for?”
Jimmy looked over the assortment of lethal weapons. There was a miniature pink revolver, big black handguns, and then large hunting rifles and shotguns – which he pointed at. “Those are the one’s that make the cool cha-chunk sound when you cock it, right?”
But please, no bullets.”
Written by BW Derge, All Rights Reserved 2024
© USA
This was a short story composed in 2024 called "No Bullets, Please"
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