Title: Humiliation
Genre: Humor / General
Rating: K+
Character: Renji Abarai
Spoilers: None
Summary: The harder you try, the dumber you look.
Word Count: 276
Warnings: Shameless torture of all shinigami and their happenings in the human world.

Disclaimer: If I owned Bleach more things like this would happen.

A/N: Was watching the early episodes of Bleach the other day and it was the one where Rukia couldn't get that juice box open. So, I shall make all shinigami have drabbles where they are retarded about normal human-world stuff. But I need ideas, since I only know what I want to do for a few of them.

Dedication: For CO Raven who gave me the idea for "the first time Renji used a gun" like, a million years ago.


"Now this here, sir, is the safety lock."

"Uh-huh."

The man swallowed nervously, reaching up to loosen his tie. The strange red-headed man with the tribal tattoos and the terrifying expression had somehow pulled him into selling him a gun. The man had no I.D., no knowledge of firearms, and, when asked what he needed the gun for, he'd just grinned positively demonically and told the salesman it was none of his business.

The poor salesman shuddered to think what the scary man needed a rifle for, but he'd paid cash for it, so, well, there you go.

"And well, this is how you load the bullets, sir," he said, loading a couple as he said it.

Wine-red eyes watched his every move.

"And this is the trigger-"

The firearm was suddenly snatched out of his hands. "I know this part!"

The salesman felt his stomach leap into his throat at the grin the man was sporting. "You, uh, do…?"

The smirk widened. "I saw this on the TV."

His eyes widened. "On the… TV? Um, sir?" He jumped when the rifle was cocked with an overly load click. "You aren't allowed to – AH!"

A bullet suddenly went whizzing over him, and he ducked behind the counter, hands over his head. When the man leaned over the counter to see what he was doing, he yelped in panic.

"Hey, are you al-" The clicking sound of multiple guns sounded. "-right?"

Renji straightened, turning, and staring at the half-a-dozen security personal all pointing small guns at him.

He grinned sheepishly, one hand rubbing the back of his neck and slinging the rifle over his shoulder. "Ummm… oops?"


A/N: This is bad. Like, really, really, really bad…… Ah, well. You win some, you lose some.

I know next to nothing about guns. Seriously. I can shoot a 38 and hit someone. But, uhhh, that's pretty much it. So, since I know nothing about rifles, there's not much here.

Also, we're pretending Soul Society gives them money for their stay in the human world, how else would they do anything? I assume they need to eat, gigai or not. And, well, let's just say Renji used ALL of his funds, and that's why he had to have Rukia dress him in that crazed hippie outfit plus Chappy the Rabbit shirt. ::shudders:: I have nightmares about that shirt. It eats people.