Justice: Part 5 – Revelation

Martin Reynard entered his office the next day, and the door slammed shut behind him. He jumped and looked around, but found nothing. Slowly, he turned back toward the bag he was unpacking, but stopped when a whisper, barely possible to be more than a breath of wind rushing under the door, reached his ears with the sound of, “Professor.”

He looked back at the door, and relaxed to find one of his students there. “Jolene, you scared me. What do you need?”

“Help,” she replied. It was clear that she was holding back tears. “Eric’s been killed, and they came to arrest me for it, but I… I ran. I don’t know why, but I ran, and I can’t go back, and I had nowhere else to go.” The emotion won over, and her eyes let loose the floodgates, “I just don’t know wha…”

“Shh… shh…” Reynard stepped forward and embraced her. He felt her sobs as her chest heaved in his arms and her tears soaked into his sweater vest. After a moment, he loosened his grasp and looked into her eyes. “Listen, I have to get to class, but you just hide here and I’ll take you home at the end of the day, okay? Everything’s going to be alright.”

Jolene nodded, and watched as he gathered his belongings and left to teach. Once he left, she settled in a corner of the room, twisted her ring, and disappeared.

Reynard returned to a seemingly empty room. “Jolene?” he called, looking all around.

“Here,” she said behind him. He turned and found her standing up by the bookshelf. “Sorry, I must have blended in with all the books.”

He laughed, “That’s fine. I’m just glad you’re safe.” He stared at her for a few more seconds before adding, “Well, I just need to pack up a few things, but we’ll be out of here in a minute.”

“Alright,” Jolene said, “Thank you so much for helping me out. I don’t know what I’d do without you right now.”

“Oh, no problem. Anything for a student.”

The drive to his home was uneventful. When they arrived, he ushered her into the living room and onto the couch. Leaving her there, he went and made some dinner for the two of them.

Jolene sat awkwardly for a minute while her professor scurried around in the kitchen before getting up and looking around. The mantle over the small fireplace was littered with volumes of classical literature held up by miniatures of historic statues. “Do you want a drink?” the voice from the kitchen inquired.

This made Jolene’s throat begin to hurt and remind her that she was dehydrated from crying and not having drank anything since Edith Manser’s house. “Sure,” she answered. “I’ll have some water, thanks.” She turned back to the clutter on the shelf, and having sufficiently examined it, scanned the surroundings for something new. A full bookshelf drew her eyes, and she began to follow them before her professor re-entered with a salad and drink.

“I have some TV dinners in the oven, but managed to find enough fresh vegetables around here for these for now.”

Jolene smiled as she took her bowl and cup. Reynard disappeared back into the kitchen. “This is great, thanks again for doing all this, Professor.”

“Just call me Martin, will you? And again, it’s no trouble,” he emerged with his own filled dishes. “Anything you want, just ask.” The two sat on the couch. Silence filled the room as they ate and drank what was before them, but it turned immediately awkward when they finished and the man returned the bowls to the kitchen.

While he was gone, Jolene observed the area once again. “So,” she called, “You don’t have a family?”

“Divorced, actually; no kids.” He returned, “Why?”

“Oh, just trying to make conversation. I saw there were no pictures and just…” the professor sat back down beside her, “guessed?”

He laughed, “Yeah, I guess our typical talks about your schooling don’t really work here, do they? Well, just tell me about yourself. Or your life. Anything, really.”

Jolene shifted uncomfortably, “Well, I don’t know what to say about all that. Eric and I have—had—been good friends since childhood.” She looked into the distance with a slight chuckle, thinking back, “He was a bit of a troublemaker as a kid, but was always really sweet to me. And I guess most boys are a bit difficult anyways.” She looked back down at her lap, sadness taking over once more.

Martin couldn’t help but roll his eyes a bit, but managed to keep himself mostly under control. He snuck his arm around her shoulders to comfort the young woman, “Hey, try not to think about him right now. It’ll only upset you. I asked about you. Talk about you.”

Tears welled back into Jolene’s eyes, and she blinked to keep them from overflowing, “But Eric has been there my whole life. He is my life… was. He is me.” The dam broke and saltwater poured once more over her eyelids.

“Hush,” Reynard held her tighter. “Everything is alright. You don’t need to think about him any more.”

Jolene continued sobbing, but then felt something strange—something soft, warm, and wet—on the back of her neck. A kiss? She pulled away and looked her professor in the eye, “What are you doing?”

He reached for her again, “I’m just trying to help you through this hard time. What’s wrong?”

She stood up slowly, out of his reach, “Thank you for the help, but I think I’ll leave now.”

“What?” he stood also; Jolene took a step back. “That’s ridiculous. Dinner isn’t even ready.”

“I’ve decided to turn myself in to the police.” Reynard walked forward slowly, and she continued back with each step.

“So? No reason you can’t eat first.”

Jolene’s eyes fell sideways to the floor, “No, I need to right now. I did it. I feel guilty, and…” she gasped as her shoulders hit the mantel. She forced her gaze back up to the man standing above her.

“You didn’t do it. You’re lying.” He whispered with a smile. “What are you afraid of?”

“How do you know I didn’t? You weren’t there.”

“What if I was?”

“Then what I’m afraid of is you!” She clamped her eyes shut and launched her knee up with a satisfying thud! as it made contact. The professor keeled over in pain, giving Jolene a chance—once she got her mind working again—to rush for the door.

She got out of the house and kept running, not stopping for what seemed like hours, when air simply refused to enter her lungs.

“Bitch,” growled Reynard through clenched teeth. He shoved himself up off the floor and went to slam the door back shut.

NOTE: Just to make damn sure it’s disclaimed, this involves no personal feelings toward or experiences involving Philosophy professors (or any professor, really). The one I have is pretty awesome, actually. So, uh, yeah. Have fun.

Justice: Part 4 – Blame

Edith Manser looked up from her book at the knock on the door. “Just a minute!” she called, groaning as she shoved her way off of the sofa and shuffled to the door. She opened it to find her son’s girlfriend standing there with tear-stained cheeks.

“Jolene! What’s the matter? Come in!” Edith opened the door wide to let the girl in.

“I wouldn’t ask you for help like this, Meredith, but I don’t have anywhere else to go. Eric’s been… He’s dead. Killed.”

Edith’s chin dropped, and she crumpled to the ground. Jolene caught her. “He’s been what?” She moaned and buried her face in her hands. Jolene could see Edith’s tears falling through her fingers as her own fogged up her vision.

“I know, I know… I can’t believe it either, but I-” her voice choked. She focused her attention on helping her late fiancée’s mother stand up and walk over to the couch. The two sat and cried together for hours, interspersed with talking about their memories of Eric and of what had happened to him.

The night wore on, and Jolene finally began feeling drowsy. She yawned during a pause in the conversation, and Edith jumped and looked at her watch. She cleared her throat, “Oh, it’s late; you’ve gotten tired. Here, I’ll put you up in the guest room.

“Thank you so much,” Jolene said. She hugged her, “You’re a kind woman.”

Edith smiled, “Get some sleep.”

Jolene jerked awake at the loud banging on her door. A glance at the clock told her it was 3 am. “Police, open up!” The deep voice came through loud and clear, but Jolene’s instinct told her to stay away.

She struggled to untangle herself from the sheets and fell out of bed. “Just a minute!” she called back hopefully.

“We’re coming in on the count of three,” the voice retorted. “One…” Jolene opened the window. “Two…” she twisted her ring. “Three,” the door burst open as she ran into the open closet and pressed herself against the wall.

The team of officers scattered and searched every corner of the room, finding nothing. Edith followed them in and glared disapprovingly at the captain as he sent a group of the men outside in case Jolene had escaped through the window.

“She’s still in here, I know it,” Edith spat out. “That girl killed my only child; she confessed it to me. You dolts had better find her. I want justice.”

“Don’t worry, ma’am. We’ll catch her.” The captain got nods from all his officers and—satisfied that Jolene was nowhere to be found—called, “Clear! Move out, search the rest of the house.”

The police exited the room, but Edith remained holding an old, clunky flashlight. She shone it slowly around all the walls, paying special attention to the lower corners. Finally, she got to the closet and gradually made her way to the space occupied by Jolene. A grin spread across her face as the beam came to a stop.

Jolene squinted her eyes in the brightness and made a fruitless attempt at shielding them with her invisible arms. Meredith’s hand shot out and felt around for a second before contacting and grasping one of them. Startled, Jolene grappled with the claw digging into her arm, but couldn’t peel it off. Edith held the arm still and felt her way up to the fingers, where she ripped off the engagement ring.

“You think I wore this thing for thirty-two years and never figured out its tricks?” she hissed at the younger woman. Jolene was too startled to reply, so Edith balled up her hand with the ring and called to the police, “Help! She’s in here! She attacked me!”

The team rushed back in, and held their guns on Jolene. “Freeze!” the captain yelled. “You’re under arrest for the murder of Eric Manser.”

Jolene couldn’t believe what was happening. She could never kill Eric. She had to get out. She had to somehow prove that it wasn’t her; that Edith was lying. She had to find the real killer, prove that it was him, and bring him to justice.

But first she had to get out.

So she dove, keeping a hold on her fiancee’s mother, onto the other side of the bed and wrenched the ring from the old woman’s hand. Jolene faded into nothingness as the cops reached the bed and looked over it. Edith was cringing in pain, but Jolene couldn’t do anything—didn’t particularly want to, either. She stood and rushed out the door as quietly as possible. The officer at the door felt a breath of wind rush past him, but thought nothing of it.

Sorry, dudes, but i’m not sure I was entirely feeling it when writing this part–just in a mood or something. Getting a bit more in the spirit now, though, and part 5 is as of yet unfinished, so perhaps there’ll be something better in store for next week. Later!

Justice: Part 3-Tragedy

The elevator dinged and Jolene looked up to see her floor number digitally rendered at the top. She gave a small smile to the person who remained in the box and stepped through the door. As she walked down the long, straight hall, she noticed a bar of light running across the floor from the apartment she and Eric shared. Her pace quickened as she arrived at the door to find it open a crack. Cautiously, she snuck in. “Eric?” she called softly. No response. She called to him again.

Thunk! The sound came from the bedroom. Jolene tiptoed towards the room. Thunk! The door was open to reveal darkness within as she crept closer. Crunch! She peered around the frame and screamed.

The masked man jerked his face up to see her and pulled the knife out of her fiancée’s chest. Blood soaked through his shirt as he twitched for a second before lifelessness took over. The killer stood and strode towards her, twisting the weapon in his hands until its point was facing her. Her shock wore off enough for her to make a dash for the exit.

Jolene made it into the hall and rushed for the elevators. As she pushed the button, she knew the killer would arrive any second. Backing up against the wall, she twisted the ring on her finger and faded as the man in the mask rushed turned the corner. Her hands rushed to clamp her mouth shut to keep from giving away their owner, as the murderer searched the area for his prey.

A quiet growl emanated from him as the empty elevator arrived and he headed into the stairwell. Jolene let her hands fall and released the breath she’d been holding. She returned to the room, where Eric’s body now floated on a pool of its own blood. A cry escaped Jolene as she knelt and took her love in her arms.

A half hour later, after a neighbor had called, the police arrived to find her still in that position, her tears diluting the blood on the floor. The detective lowered his gun and snuck forward, startling her as he placed a gentle hand on her shoulder. “It’s alright now,” he whispered, pulling her away. “I’m Detective Dering. You’re okay.”

Reluctant and trembling, Jolene stood and followed the man. He took her out of the room, where other officers did their best to comfort the woman.

The police finished their work and packed up the body. Jolene was glad to be out of her bloody dress and give it to them as evidence. The detective went through Jolene’s account once more with her. “You then ran out of the apartment, found a place to hide, and lost him.”

She nodded.

The other officer interviewing her spoke up, “Where did you hide?”

Jolene’s voice cracked as she answered. “I… I ran up to the roof. He followed me into the stairs, but went down.”

The two police looked at each other and Detective Dering nodded. “I think that’s all we need. We’ll call you if we need anything else. This will probably be a crime scene for a few days; do you have anywhere you can stay?”

Jolene nodded, and the police led her out.

Justice: Part 2: Discovery

“The allegory of the cave,” Professor Reynard asserted, “is the most important and widely-known concept in any of Plato’s writings. It begins with a group of…” He continued on, but Jolene was paying no attention. Just last night, she was proposed to by the love of her life. The ring still felt strange on her finger; she couldn’t stop twisting it and smiling blissfully at the image of her husband-to-be forming in front of her face.

In the course of her playing with it, she heard the professor ask, “What point is Plato trying to make with this? Why must the man who has seen the sun return to the cave, even though none of the others will believe in a reality greater than the shadows they’ve known their whole life?” The whole class sat still for a moment, and Jolene finally raised her hand to answer.

She wasn’t usually one to answer in class, but she did so often in this one. Professor Reynard was her faculty mentor, and having him as the teacher gave her an extra boost of confidence. He always let her have her say, and there was rarely criticism amongst the students.

This time, however, he didn’t even look at her.

A couple seconds later, another student signaled a thought, and was called upon to release it. Confused, Jolene shook her hand in the air, but still received no recognition from the teacher. A few more people had a say in the discussion, and Reynard continued with the lecture. Jolene dejectedly lowered her arm and resolved to return to playing with her ring.

The only problem was, she couldn’t see it anymore. In fact, she herself had disappeared, leaving only an apparently empty chair. Frantically, she felt for her torso—it appeared to still be there, along with legs and arms, thus suggesting an intact body. Yet none could be seen. Trying to figure out what had happened, Jolene felt a pinch on the inside of her palm. Feeling the area, she came upon the stone of her ring. She twisted it back to the outside, and sure enough, her form slowly faded back into existence.

Minutes later, class was dismissed, and Jolene stood to leave, eager to tell her husband-to-be of the discovery. Before she could reach the door, though, a voice called to her. “May I speak with you for a moment?”

She sighed, but turned back to Professor Reynard with a smile, “Sure, what do you need?”

“I want to talk to you about that layout you gave me for your plans for graduate school. When will you be free to meet up?”

“Uh… ten on Thursday again works for me.”

“Alright, I’ll see you in my office then.” Jolene gave a smile and turned to leave. “Congratulations, by the way.”

She turned back, “Huh?”

“The ring. I assume Eric gave it to you.”

“Oh, right,” Jolene said, looking back at it. “Can you believe it?” she asked, grinning.

Reynard laughed and began putting away his papers as the next class filtered in, “No, not really.” He paused, and said, eyes still down, “Good luck to you both, though.”

Jolene was already on her way out, “Thanks!”

The professor stuffed the remaining material into his bag and followed out the door.

Stay tuned (if, in fact, you tuned in to begin with): something actually happens next week!

Justice: Part 1 – Proposal

Y’all best appreciate this, after I lost the whole damn story Thursday. And as always, feedback would be very. Helpful. So let’s see how it pastes into here…

Jolene Lansing gaped down at the man kneeling before her. Time in the restaurant had stopped, as everyone—customers and waiters alike—watched intently for her reaction, but she didn’t notice. She couldn’t. Eric Manser, the man of her dreams, was offering her the chance of a lifetime.

He shifted uneasily at her feet, and whispered up to her, “You know, people usually answer a question like this.”

She snapped back to reality, and screamed, “Yes!” The couple laughed, and the restaurant returned to normal as he slid the ring onto her finger. She immediately recognized the carnelian inlay surrounded by the gold base.

“This is your mother’s ring,” she informed her new fiancée as he returned to his seat and attempted to continue his meal.

He finished chewing the bite of steak in his mouth and replied, “Not quite. It was technically my great-grandmother’s. You know how my great-grandad was an archaeologist and all, right? So he was digging up this town in Turkey, and found a cavern with a dead body. An important guy, too. Heavily decorated and everything.”

“Ooooh…” Jolene joked.

“Hush, this is important stuff, now.” Jolene smiled sarcastically, but let him continue. “So this guy—I mean, the corpse, not my ancestor—was just surrounded by gold and junk, which my great-grandfather, being the good archaeologist that he is, gave to museums and whatnot. This ring, though, gave him a feeling. He couldn’t let it go once he had it, so he took it and gave it to the one thing in the world he cared about more—my great-grandmother. Basically, it’s been passed down in the family since.”

“Wow,” Jolene gazed in awe at the beautifully intricate designs of the piece of jewelry.

“So you like it, then?” Eric asked.

“Of course!”

He grinned and raised his glass of wine, “To my great-grandfather, for making it so that I didn’t have to spend a bunch of money on a ring.”

“Oh, really? Then to the very large wedding we’re now going to have because of it.” They clinked glasses and drank to their respective toasts.

Again, no real excitement until part 3. Just hang on for the time being; I need to develop character.

Today in WoW…

"Our little Ribbly's finally worth something!" - Yuka Screwspigot

So yesterday, I lost all of my story I’d written thus far, which was up to the middle of part 5. That’s right, over half the gorram way done. Well, I rewrote a bit, so part 1 will go up tonight as planned. Later!

Another Paper I Got an A on – Part 2

Is this sad at all? Anyways, Part 1, for people who join the party late. Just my version of throwing a dead body out the window (major points for immediate reference recognition. I mean, I probably wouldn’t have even gotten it). Anyways, yay for Wednesdays not having any good shows for me to watch online Thursday!

One may still argue that having a definition of something is necessary for the understanding or description of the thing. Even if this were the case, it could still not be necessary to know the definition in order to determine what qualities a thing possesses. In fact, it may very well be the opposite, and knowing what properties a thing has is necessary for defining it. A computer keyboard, for example, can most succinctly be defined as a board with buttons in it, each of which has a letter, number, or function that tells a computer to do or display a particular thing. That definition cannot be given without knowing that a keyboard has a few particular qualities such as needing to be connected to a computer, having certain features such as a number of keys and being board-like, and its function of telling the computer something. The definition is naught but the sum of a few qualities of the keyboard.

Thinking of courage, virtue, and justice, then, this could certainly still apply—perhaps more so due to their abstract nature. Continuing with the Meno, in the absence of an acceptable definition, Socrates ends up simply describing things that can be taught (knowledge) and things that cannot (traits), and ends up determining that virtue is neither of these through the use of examples that run counter to them both. He invents a third possibility, that of correct opinion, that seems to fit with the concept that both he and Meno have formed throughout their lives of what virtue is. Indeed, the formed concept might even be a correct opinion itself, in which case Socrates has little room to disapprove of the idea that it cannot alone exist without the ability to be articulated.

Courage, also, can be best defined through its features. It is characterized by a lack of shown weakness and fear in immediate danger, particularly if one is acting of or to protect one of the other virtues. In order to form a definition of it, we take into consideration the examples that we find in stories or experiences in which we feel that courage is present, find the most common feature of all of them, and attempt to describe that element. In the case of justice, Plato did just this in the Republic. He first described something that he considered to be the most just example of that thing—the imaginary city Kallipolis—and then searched for what the feature was that made it just. He took the concept of justice that was formed in his mind throughout his life, and created something with that without even defining it in words, thus again disproving the idea that one must be able to put something into words in order to have a definite understanding of it. He then pieced together a number of things about the city that were characteristics of justice, and brought together a definition from there, later applying it to parts of the soul and so-on to answer the original question of the work of how it compares to injustice.

One cannot say that it’s absolutely necessary to be able to define something in order to 1) know what it is and 2) know what qualities it possesses. If it is necessary for knowing what it is, it would be impossible to define something to begin with since one cannot define something unless they already have a notion as to what it is. Additionally, one does not need to be able to necessarily define a lamp to know that it gives light—and, in fact, the quality of light-giving ability is almost certainly in any given definition of a lamp. Definition, concept, features, and divisions of a given thing all have certain amounts of both independence from and dependence on one another, but none fully requires that any other be present in order to exist in the human mind.

Another Paper I Got an A On – Part 1

The only teacher that seemed completely unimpressed was my Linguistics professor last semester. Understandably, too, since she’d spent her entire career on studying and explaining to us dumb college students how no dialect is better or worse than any other… or something. Anyways, I get proud of my achievements easily, so here’s the first half of my Ancient Philosophy paper on Plato. Some generalities you may like to reference (just linking to the wiki’s here; I don’t think it’s absolutely crucial): Laches, Meno, Republic. Part 2 will go up in an hour or so after I’ve watched the most recent episode of Lie To Me. I’ll get to actual thoughts specifically for posts soon; got a couple bouncing around the ol’ noggin by this point.

In Plato’s writings, Socrates regularly asserts that one must know what a thing is and be able to define it before being able to answer any given question about it or its properties. He demands that virtue, courage, and justice be assigned a satisfactory, all-encompassing—yet not too general—meaning before figuring out whether it can be taught, how best to achieve it, and the extent to which it is profitable, respectively. This point tends to be more of a premise than a conclusion in his arguments, as the purpose of the various works is the exploration of a virtue or virtue itself rather than on how the search for an answer is best performed. Of course, the correct manner of searching could very well be considered a secondary point of the dialogues, particularly given the consistency with which Socrates uses this method within his arguments.

This is not discussed at great length in any given dialogue, perhaps because it digresses so far from the primary question of the piece. An argument, however, is briefly given in the Meno by the question of whether or not one can know any given thing about Meno, himself, if he had never met him. This is open to flaw, for one could surely have heard things about him, even without having seen the man himself. One may change the wording, though, to ask whether or not one could know anything about Meno if he had never heard of him. This is a completely sound argument, as there is no way to know anything about a given thing without having at least been told a little about it. Granted, one might use reason to discover new qualities of something, but one must already know at least a minute amount of information about the thing in order to do so. For instance, Newton had to know that objects fell to the earth before coming up with the theory of gravity (and, frankly, required a fair amount of work from Galileo to do so).

Thus, if one had no knowledge even that someone named Meno existed, it would indeed be impossible to know anything further about him, but even if all he knew was the name, he might at least be able to surmise that Meno was a man, or even simply an animal. The problem that enters here is that we do, in fact, know something about virtue, what parts it has, and what qualities it possesses, otherwise Meno would not have thought to ask whether or not it can be taught. We know that virtue is called virtue; that what it does is make a [thing] a good or great [thing]; that virtue of the soul consists of justice, wisdom, courage, and temperance; and have, as individuals, formed a general concept of what it is. Socrates, however, asserts that we must be able to create a definition, even within the constraints of language, for something, avoiding a simple description of its parts and what it does, and that if we cannot do this, we don’t truly know what the given thing is.

Thinking of color, one can give a definition of it—in the scientific sense, the property of an object that makes light of a certain wavelength reflect while others are absorbed, or even Socrates’ own definition of an effluence of form—but it would be far more difficult for one to make an attempt at describing it or what it does. If one can give a definition of one thing, but not describe it, can’t one be able to describe something without needing to give a definition and still understand what it is?

As an additional thought, most people at least believe that they have an acceptable grasp on the concept of virtue or justice or courage—again, or questions would never be asked about them and Plato would never have written any of these dialogues—yet there are many things for which we have definitions but no firm understanding of. The most prime example, of course, is the concept of infinity. It almost certainly must exist—at least in the case of time, for time is the medium of all change and thereby could not begin if there was no time before time—but is an idea essentially incomprehensible to the human mind. It’s only as believable to us as it is because the only less comprehensible thing is absolute nothingness—we reason that the universe must be eternal because there’s no possible human understanding for a complete lack of the physical realm. If there is such a thing as definition without understanding, there’s no reason to believe that understanding without definition is impossible, particularly given that understanding is a more fundamental process than defining.

Starship Troopers Gave Me the Idea

So, I’ve been playing with writing scripts lately, and thought I might share a parody infomercial. I know, the format’s probably all wacky, but as long as you can tell who says and does what when, there’s no problem, right? Sure. On that note, just to be clear, the announcer’s voice goes over the actions described above his lines (kind of hard to describe something someone else does simultaneous to the speaker). Also, sorry I’ve been in such a heavily movie mood lately, but it’s what my mind’s been on, and been particularly helpful in guiding me away from thinking about the looming apocalypses. Anyways, buy some Infi-ammo! (Durn! I forgot to throw in bad actor customer testimonies! Oh well.)

Woman shoots revolver, and looks distressed as she dumps out the casings and reloads.

ANNOUNCER

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Bank robber shoots at police with an AK, and gets riddled full of bullets when he tries to change magazines

ANOUNCER

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Continue showing various distressed shooters. Man having trouble inserting a magazine, woman pinching her thumb trying to load a magazine, etc.

ANNOUNCER

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Show picture of Infi-ammo—basically, looks like regular magazines.

ANNOUNCER

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Show various shots of the product and people happily shooting.

ANNOUNCER

Infi-ammo’s revolutionary new bullet-fill technology allows for easier handling of any firearm. Just load like any other magazine, and shoot for as long as you want!

Show hip with a bunch of filled mag. pouches, person counting bullets in a magazine and blatantly mouthing, “five!”, a bunch of people having ridiculous amounts of trouble inserting a magazine.

ANNOUNCER

Magazines take up so much space, and only hold a small number of bullets. And even with a magwell, it’s such a hassle to have to change them out all the time. Infi-ammo is the size of one regular magazine, and never has to be changed out!

Show person using and shooting revolver “Infi-ammo”.

ANNOUNCER

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Continue with happy shooters and shots of the product.

ANNOUNCER
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(quickly)
Not available in metric, or calibers .22 through .50.
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*sigh* alright, the wonkiness of the last bit is from the blog formatting and my trying to keep “Call now!” in the center (at least I managed that), and then trying to fix the spacing on the last two lines. Major fail, yes, I’ll never try to fix anything ever again. Otherwise, save for a bit of an SNL-for-people-who-actually-know-stuff-about-guns-feel, I’m relatively happy. However, critique is welcome and most assuredly encouraged.