“Luke!” She screamed ferociously into the house, while still maintaining her dazzling smile. It was eerie, in a creepy Stepford Wife kind of way. There was a shadowy form that surfaced behind her.

“Luke, you are seventeen years old, when are you going to grow up and stop shooting the neighbours with that pesty dart gun! Now apologize to this young Satanist before I take away your Star Wars action figures!” She quietly warned the shadow with such practiced form. She dissapeared and soon pushed the elusive Luke through the door and shut it behind him.

He was gangly, almost looked underfed. Which could possibly be blamed by his creepy mother and her punishment threats. His hair was a tangled brown mess that hung over his eyes, which were hidden behind black rimmed glasses. He wore a blue Star Wars tshirt that looked like it had survived many years of washing and rescues from trips to the trash can.

“Um, um…” he said, awkwardly shifting around.

“You still play with dart guns?” Was all I could say.