My name is Ralph Gershaw and I like kittens. I live in the United States of America. I am a civilian. I also hold the rank of Lieutenant. I have no interest in being a colonel or a captain but I do not have a choice. All civilians also hold military ranks. Our country has more order this way.

People carry guns. With different ranks, civilians are to carry different manners of weapons.

On my eighth birthday my family went to the city. We went to the Center for Mandatory Weapons Distribution. My parents left me at the door of an large ominous building. As I waited outside I looked up at the sky and saw vultures circling. I shivered involuntarily. A large woman with green military fatigues and close-cropped blond hair opened the door and brought me into a foyer filled with thousands of other eight year-old boys and girls.

There were huge movie screens at the west end of the building. A nice-looking man with a light brown suit and a good smile appeared on the screen and began talking. He talked about the importance of being a good citizen, and the daffodils he noticed while driving to work, and how much he loved his two daughters. Then the large woman with green military fatigues walked onto the screen and stood next to, and slightly behind, the talking man. He nodded to her and smiled a sincere smile and continued talking about citizenship, and daffodils, and his daughters. Then she stepped behind him, pulled out a combat knife, and cut his throat.

After that the screen went black and white words appeared on the screen. The words instructed us to walk towards the exits and as we passed the large metal carts, to take one of the brown packages. In the packages were combat knifes.

I am a painter for a comic book company. I am required to carry weapons. I carry a combat knife, a nine millimeter pistol, and a sawed-off pump shotgun. I drive a tank to work. And I like kittens.