Rowley gets shot

56.Rowley Jefferson was a particularly peculiar 11-year-old boy known for his uncanny predilections that ranged from playing in the mud to sampling dog faeces. His usual inquisitive and lively nature radiated through his innocent laughter as he hopped happily around his yard on his favourite toy: a space hopper. One extraordinarily sunny afternoon, his zest seemed to get the better of him as he bounced more vigorously, projecting him over the garden fence and into the bustling town centre.
The vibrancy of the centre was quite different from his usual laid-back garden setting. It was filled with the sweet scent of cotton candy sold at the corner stall, the sight of vibrant toys displayed wining the hearts of other children his age, the rustic pony rides across the park, and a quirky herbal stand known for its peculiar type of 'weed.'
Unexpectedly, Rowley's space hopper veered off into a dark alleyway, far from the fun and gaiety of the town centre. The ominous silence of the alley sent shivers down his spine, but before he could turn around, he was dampened by a shadow. It was Nasty Joe, a notorious gangster renowned throughout the town for his wicked misdemeanors.
Nasty Joe, startled by Rowley's sudden appearance, instinctively pulled out his gun and fired, hitting Rowley in his arm. Rowley's innocent world was shattered, replaced by wails of pain that echoed in the desolate alleyway. Relentlessly, Nasty Joe fired four more times, further increasing Rowley's agonizing cries. Nasty Joe scoffed at Rowley's cries, kicking him mercilessly and calling him a 'crier.'
In the serene quietude of their home, Rowley's mother, a woman of acute sensitivity and a motherly sixth sense, heard a distant wail. The fear etched across her face was undeniable. Following the sound, she stumbled upon the horrifying scene of her beloved son writhing in agony while Nasty Joe stood there, gun in hand.
With the adrenaline rushing through her veins, she wrestled the gun from Nasty Joe's grasp and in a fit of protective rage, she shot him. She had trained Nasty Joe's own weapon against him, and shot him up his bum ending him in an ironic twist of fate.
Rowley was rushed to the hospital, his cries intertwining with the wails of the ambulance siren. His condition was severe but stable. The damage done would leave indelible marks, healing only around 1992, as per the doctor's vague prognosis. Despite the pain, the ordeal had left him, Rowley maintained his innocent cheerfulness.
Upon being discharged, Rowley noticed the visible holes left by his gunshot wounds. Eager to exploit the uniqueness of his situation, he used it as an opportunity to transform himself into a walking, talking condiment dispenser. He filled one of his holes with salt and another with pepper, catching his mother off guard when he sprinkled his own dinner that night.
His creative utilization of his wounds brought laughter back into their home. It was a sight for sore eyes for his mother, who had been ridden with anxiety ever since his unfortunate incident. But nothing prepared her for when Rowley insisted his father, Mr. Jefferson, also get shot so he could join him in his new venture.
And so, the unfortunate incident of Rowley's shooting became just another tale in the quirky life of Rowley Jefferson, the boy who filled his gunshot wounds with condiments, transforming a horrific ordeal into unforgettable laughter.