"If I were to shoot you in the belly with a small caliber handgun, what do you think would happen? Do you think you would drop to the floor in a clean white shirt and expire quietly after saying a few final words? Do you think you would take the shot bravely, wrestle the gun away, apprehend me for the authorities, and see your photo on the front page of tomorrow's newspaper, smiling in your hospital bed as you receive a medal from the mayor? No, such things occur only in the fantasy world of television, but a great many people, inundated by repeated exposure to such lies, tend to believe that violence is drama.
Let me tell you the ugly truth. If I were to shoot you in the belly, first, you would shit your pants. You would fall to the ground, doubled up in agonizing pain. You would bleed great quantities of smelly dark brown blood. As your stomach fills with blood, you would vomit copious amounts. As your lifeblood drains away, soaking into the carpeting, your core body temperature would plummet, causing you to shiver uncontrollably. Unless the abdominal aorta is punctured, there may be hours of suffering before you die.
If you are rescued by paramedics, stabilized for transport, and immediately brought into the operating room, you will not be patched up and quickly released. First, your intestines will be placed in a pile alongside you where they can be examined while the abdominal cavity is thoroughly rinsed in hopes of averting peritonitis. If you were shot with a high velocity hollowpoint, shot repeatedly, or are just unlucky enough to have multiple ruptures of the gastrointestinal tract, the surgeons won't even bother trying to patch you up. Your entrails will go in the hospital dumpster, and you will shit in a colostomy bag for the rest of your weak, sickly, frightened, lonely, and pain-ridden existence.
— anonymous (RWT)