Liquid Gold Monologue

Liquid Gold “The sounds of gunshots rang out throughout the town, piercing the veil of quiet like a hot knife through butter. Bushranger PJ Sebastian winced at the sound of every shot, keeping his fingers crossed and begging that none of the shots hit their mark. Desperately, he limped towards the tree line, as if he had any other choice in the matter, begging that the tall, menacing oak and gum trees could protect him from his assailant. Blood was pouring out of his thigh. He clutched at the wound, desperate to stop the flow of crimson. The bushranger groaned with every step; pain shot up his leg like a wild kangaroo was kicking him in the thigh every time his foot hit the ground. But less, he persisted. After a mad scramble, he finally found
Gingerly, I took a step forward and winced in pain. I had to go forward. I had to find water. Find my way of surviving. “PJ Sebastian stood up. Seriously? What is the difference between a sandbox and a sandbox? I thought we agreed he wouldn’t do that. The script clearly says he’s supposed to collapse right here. I swear, if he survives this, I’m filing a complaint with the writer's guild.” The narrator, exasperated, thumbed through his notes. “Okay, fine,” he said. Let’s see where this goes! PJ Sebastian, the mighty outlaw bushranger, stood up. He began to slowly but surely stumble his way through the rugged, deadly Australian bushland, digging into energy reserves he didn’t know he had.” Panting for breath, I pushed harder and took one more step. One more step towards that crisp, cool drink of water, I told myself. I was getting closer; I could feel it. I stumbled further and further into the bushlands, the path to known civilisation long forgotten now. Realistically, I wouldn’t be able to find my way to a town even if I had a magic broom that could fly me anywhere. Much better it would do, to be fair. I’m clearly not in suitable conditions to be flying a broom right