Considering she closes her eyes every time she squeezes the trigger, the chick is a helluva shot. It doesn't hurt I guess that she has a magic gun. Or maybe magic bullets. A shot by shot breakdown:
Shot #1 apparently (from his reaction) hits Weirdo Mustache Guy in the gut yet somehow makes no entry wound.
Shot #2 definitely hits Weirdo Mustache Guy in the gut and this time leaves a visible wound. On its way there it also somehow magically passes through his hand without leaving a mark.
Shot #3 (when Weirdo Mustache Guy is keeled over the dresser), like shot #1, leaves no discernable mark. Not even sure where it might have hit him. In the arm? At any rate, for some reason instead of laying him low, it stands him up, spins him around, after which he and the wall have a little sexytime before...
...Shot #4 brings that to a end. Bringing the mostest magicalness, shot #4 makes not one hole in Weirdo Mustache Guy's back but two. WTF? Also, like shot #3, it causes him to spin around in the opposite direction it should have taken him.
Then Weirdo Mustache Guy finally gets off a shot (high five!). In the very inspiring, emotional moment, he manages to hit the carpet. Blech. Tee-bo?
Shot #5, the one that finally gets Weirdo Mustache Guy, again leaves no entry wound so not quite sure where it hits him. It does however stand him up just long enough to look around and ensure that his death fall will land on the nice cushy bed (good on you, Weirdo Mustache Guy...whenever you can, turn a situation to your advantage!).
I guess that's a wrap. Except to say that when you look around at the world today, with all the sadness and madness and gladness, you realize that the world needs more, not less, of Weirdo Mustache Guy. We love you man.