I fidget a lot when I’m attempting to come up with creative gibberish. There’s scratching of the head, twirling of pens and lots of bending of paperclips. I also keep toys around because that’s what so-called “creatives” in “creative” departments always do. It’s an unspoken rule of the industry. And one of my toys just happens to be a little gun.
At some point on Friday afternoon I was fidgeting with my toy gun. And at some point I put it in my back pocket. And then I rode my bike to the bar. And then I drove my old car home. And then I woke up Saturday morning, put on yesterday’s jeans and walked the dog around the neighborhood.
Roughly 24 hours after mindlessly slipping the toy into my Levi’s, I discovered the little gun sticking out of my back pocket. While I doubt it could be mistaken for the real thing, I would’ve had a hard time coming up with an explanation if I had gotten myself in some kind of trouble.
My weapon of choice.