Briefly looking around me, what was he talking about? Was there a spider or some kind of rodent lurking about the living room?
“What are you on about?” I asked, noting him still stood with his eyes glued to one thing – the pizza box.
“I won’t say it again,” he replied through gritted teeth.
“Jace, you’re being ridiculous,” I began, standing up. “Do you not like pizza? You’re not lactose intolerant, are you?”
In an instant, he lunged forward, and grabbing the pizza box from its position on the sofa cushion, launched it across the room. “I said to get the f*****g thing OUT!!” he raged.
“Oi, you’re being ridiculous!” I shouted back. “It’s a pizza, Jace, not a f*****g grenade!”
“Don’t you dare tell me what it is! Get it out of my f*****g sight!” he yelled.
Hastily making
