In the morning, Mark walked into the living room rubbing his eyes tireless as he moved into the kitchen to make his usual morning coffee. Halfway into making it, as he waited for the water to heat up, he noticed something on the chair, or the chair seat higher than it was supposed to be and another different colour.
He reached for the butler knife and grabbed it. Oh, he wasn't taking any chances. He gripped it tight and moved stealthily back towards the living room, toward the chair, rounded it so he was standing at the feet of the victim- victims
"What the hell?" He muttered to himself lowering his weapon
What gut this son of a bastard had to sleep with his daughter, squished into each other on his new chair, oh the nasty white stains. He scrunched his mouth and rolled his eyes. Just
