Get out your hankies, kids, because it’s about to get real dusty in here — puffy Floridian child killer George Zimmerman will soon likely reunite with his soul mate: the trusty, reliable gun he used to fatally shoot 17-year-old Trayvon Martin through the heart. Sometimes life really does seem like one big, fuzzy Nicholas Sparks novel, doesn’t it?
This is yet another touching twist in the Twilight-esque saga that began when one teenager who made the mistake of procuring Skittles alone at night and then walking home in a threatening (black) manner before being heroically confronted by Zimmerman and his bumbling but lovable gunfriend, who was just days from retirement from the force (the “force” in this case means the imaginary police squad to which Zimmerman fancied himself to belong). That fateful night — the night that Zimmerman and his gun were ruthlessly torn apart by a society that wasn’t ready to accept their love as “legitimate” — Zimmerman followed the unarmed teen in his car (reminder: the teen was walking very blackly) and eventually, against a 911 operator’s instructions, approached and confronted Trayvon Martin. The two scuffled, and just when it looked like Zimmerman’s Die Hard fantasies were going to end with him getting his ass kicked by a skinny teen, the gun was fired into the chest of the boy, ending the boy’s life. What a hero, that gun.
During the investigation (during which Zimmerman referred to Skittle-wielding Trayvon as “the suspect“) and subsequent trial, Zimmerman had to deal not only with all kinds of public scrutiny (ie: Hey, why did you kill that child, you stubby fuck?), he had to do it without the shooty comfort of his best friend, his gun. Just picture George Zimmerman, tender, young, 29-year-old George Zimmerman, gazing mournfully out of the window of his cell, singing a Somewhere Out There to his gun. An American Tail: Fievel Goes Postal.
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