After having the most wonderful experience I could ever dream of, I decided to try and sleep for the night, as it was nearing 4 AM or so. However, my slumber was to be so rudely interrupted after mere moments had passed, when I heard an all-too-familiar clicking just inches from my faceless head.
Standing above me, once again, was, to my chagrin, Phil Collins.
"There's no escape now, guy," he threatened, preparing his pistol for the coming assault.
"Not bothering with the one-liner this time, are you?" I inquired, to which he nodded while barring his teeth and bracing for the coming expostulation from his weapon.
"Well," I continued before he could make the shot, "luckily for me, there's no jacket required here," to which he flinched, but still maintained his composure. "This is the world we live in, after all," I muttered, to his continued discomfort, "I just remembered, I didn't properly greet you. Hello, I must be going," at which he closed his eyes in tormented frustration.
Those couple of seconds proved to be all I needed to snatch the metal handgun from his grasp. Now armed, I in turn pointed the gun at him, almost taunting him to try and get it back.
"Now get out of here, punk, and don't come back, lest you want to feel the heat on the street." At that, he bolted out of the room, vowing to have his revenge against me.
"Completely delusional," I muttered to myself, before lying back in my cramped bed and returning to sleep for the waning hours of darkness.
No comments:
Post a Comment