Happiness is a Warm Gun

Mother Superior. "She's not a girl who misses much." She sees the world as it is and will not be told otherwise. "She's well acquainted with the touch of the velvet hand like a lizard on a window pane." She is strong-minded, but strung-out. She is constantly with new men, most of them either married or losers, but has a deeper battle with herself due to the lack of attention she received from her father growing up. She smokes about as much as she breathes and she feels washed out. A man "lying with his eyes while his hands are busy working overtime" is the only thing Mother Superior is used to. Being used by men she thinks she loves is like a drug to her. A love-hate sort of thing. A burning battle between good and evil. Although she has an undying sense that someday someone will get her; will save her. "The man in the crowd with the multicolored mirrors on his hobnail boots" seems to be filling her void lately. Nights of non-lasting attention are among her fixes. Yet, this man, in particular, who has lasted longer than any of the other men -- the man with the boots -- is married and miserable. Still, he seems to have an honest connection with Mother Superior. Something that is not put on; something real, but not exaggerated. Considering the taboo and all, their love is somewhat pure. Two people madly in love, mad to save each other, and mad to be saved. They have intellectual conversations with one another, but they are both stubborn as hell. He's also terrified to leave his wife. Their unusual love for one another -- combined with their sex drive and their drug trips -- is what mostly keeps them together. Sex just is the next best thing for them both. It is his shining moment and it is her happiness. "Happiness is a warm gun" to Mother Superior. The warm gun being the man with the boots' dick -- obviously. Night after night he tells her, "Mother Superior, jump the gun. Mother Superior, jump the gun." And she does and she does and she falls harder and harder and he pushes and pushes into her and away from her all at the same time, until she can't take it. She needs her fix because she's "going down, down to the bits" that she left uptown. She needs a different kind of warm gun for a different kind of purpose now. A purpose the man with the boots also knows all too well -- but he's gone now. She goes to town to see what she can find. She finds a warm gun and it goes "bang, bang, shoot, shoot" into her arm. Mother Superior is dead. As the man in the boots desperately cries out to his unlikely and deceased love, "When I hold you in my arms and I feel my finger on your trigger, I know nobody can do me no harm, because happiness is a warm gun...Happiness is a warm -- yes it is -- gun." He needs a different kind of warm gun for a different kind of feeling. He too finds a warm gun and it goes "bang, bang, shoot, shoot" -- into his head. "The man in the crowd with the multicolored mirrors on his hobnail boots" is dead.