As he pulled the trigger I had no time to think about what to do next. I just raised my fist. I raised it so fast that for a split second I wondered if I'd become faster than a speeding bullet. If that was true, was I now more powerful than a locomotive? Could I brush off anything smaller than a large artillery shell? I didn't have long to ponder these questions, because the bullet was fast approaching. It was now or never. Was I really going to punch the bullet? As the tip met the skin of my knuckles I was convinced that I'd done it, but that feeling only lasted for a billionth of a second. My hand exploded into a million pieces of flesh and bone. I should have expected as much, but what I could never have expected was that the bullet would continue to travel as fast as a speeding bullet up my arm, along my shoulder, up through my throat, out of my mouth and back into the barrel of the gun. Nobody could have expected that.
Vincent, New York.
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