>>6001302You lunge for the golf club. Why? If you wanted to die it wouldn't have been easier to just stay still and wait for the hot breath on your throat. If you wanted to live it would have been easier to turn and run. But here you are, slipping on blood, fumbling with a shitty golf club (seriously, what sort of loser buys their golf club at fucking BIG Mart?) and turning with some vague idea of a parry-jab combo into a beatdown-what the fuck is that!
The jaw snaps onto the shaft of the golf club, the claws slam into your chest, grinding into your ribs and your back slams into the ground. You stare at it, wrestling for control of the club as your shirt stains with blood. The stink of rotting meat rolls across your face. You're going to die, at fucking BIG Mart, in your stupid fucking tan shirt and tan pants, ten minutes from being off the clock, from stupid fucking hairless dog thing that some fucking customer probably insisted was their god damn support animal!
Well fuck that! Your knee jerks into the thing's underbelly and you shove. It gags, letting go of the club and falls onto its belly and you slam the club down over and over until the warranty is definitely void and the fucking thing is just a heap of raw meat. You heave for air and immediately regret it as the stink of blood and meat and rot fills your lungs. Are you smiling?
"Drop the fucking weapon! On the ground! Move!"
Oh now the police show up.
> Drop the weapon> Vomit. Messily.> Fuck that noise, you're clocking out. 