"Gun.
Girl H says, let's turn ourselves into bullets
and load up this gun.
Let's nod and pretend you never said that.
Come on.
That way, we can choose where we go and who we hit
and whose flesh we tear apart with impunity and disregard.
We can reverse all the injustice by recalibrating who lives
and who dies.
We'll disrupt the systems through which
they determine who is guilty.
By turning ourselves into bullets,
we'll finally rid ourselves of the baggage of being female.
We'll be free.
We'll be powerful.
We'll burn it all to the ground.
You mean like when they firebombed
the whole city of Tokyo?
No.
Like when you finish a board game, and you start all over.
We burn it all down and start again from nothing.
We'll get arrested.
Bullets don't get arrested.
We'll be taken into the labs and analyzed.
They will trace our DNA, then rape our mothers.
Bullets don't have DNA.
Bullets don't have mothers.
We'll feel so guilty.
Not by the time we are bullets.
Bullets don't feel.
But what if I do?
What if I wuss out and jam the barrel.
You don't have control over that.
You said we would have control.
No, I didn't.
We would have control.
Just then a watergun drops down from the ceiling.
While the original argument carries on,
the rest of the girls go bury their heads in the water."