Bob hurried up to the porch of his townhouse. “I’m going to have to talk with Tim about his friends parking in my spot again,â€? he mumbled to himself as he ascended the porch steps.

Reaching for his keys, he noticed the front door was slightly ajar. Even more irritated at Tim now, he flung the door the door open and shouted. “Tim, one of your dumb ass friends is in my parking spot again.â€?

Tim emerged from the kitchen wearing a plastic apron covered in blood. “Dude, you’re home early,â€? Tim said, pale with fright.

“What the hell is going on man? What are you wearing and is that… blood?â€? Bob made his way towards the kitchen.

Tim stood in the doorway, blocking Bob’s advance. “Dude. Uh, can you come back later? I’m kind of in the middle of something.â€?

Looking through the doorway, past Tim, Bob could see two large black garbage bags floating in an ocean of blood on the kitchen floor. “What the fuck? Holy shit man.!â€? Bob felt his legs tremble and a dizzy calm wash over him as he fell to the ground, passing out.