b. We're not so much "even"

You chose:

b. We're not so much "even."

"You don't bloody rip my cookbook in half!" Gordon goes to punch me, and misses, shattering the window of my friend's house with the tiled living room floor. His hand is bleeding like freshly cleaved meat. He grunts and swings with his other hand, missing again, and shattering the other window. Both hands pulverized, his face red, veins bulging out of his freshly popped neck, he grunts in guttural disbelief. He's a bloodier mess than the man he shot in the Army cafeteria. I bow like a sensei, say "Aye," and walk away.

The screen rolls to credits. At the end of the credits a trailer begins for the sequel.

Gordon's plans include trying to kill me, hiring me back onto Hell's Kitchen only to fire me and rip in half a cookbook of my own on national television, and trying to make the New Jersey Nets suck. Oh, wait.

THE END.

(Return to the beginning.)