Happy Thanksgiving! Here's a video of the Undertaker Tombstoning a turkey:
R.I.P. to all the turkeys that we've lost... and ate... this season. Such a delicious shame.
Again, happy Thanksgiving!
Armed with a chained hook, I walk this hall with my legs trembling and left eye socket full of discomfort. Uncertain of my objective, I slowly walk to the nearby staircase; my long, trench coat dragging and my open crown hat covering my identity in the dark environment.
As I set my sight downstairs, I see my dad walk into the door. He heads towards the kitchen, unaware of my presence. Stealthy, I stalk him. I watch him access the fridge.
"This is your opportunity." the unfamiliar voice calls. "He's a cancer! A disease that haunts this world! End him!"
I sneak up behind him quietly as he looks for a late night snack. I get in position, and without hesitation, wrap my left hand around his mouth.
"Show him what it's like!" the voice demands as my dad struggles to fight out of my hold. I take my hook and whack him in his left eye. Without any guilt, I watch him crumble to the ground; blood pouring out of his left eye socket where his eye used to be.
I then wake up; my body soaked with sweat, my lungs gasping for air and my eyes watering like a faucet. I pull the sheets off of my drenched body and rise from my bed. I walk out of my room and start towards the bathroom.
As I'm washing my face, I look into the mirror. I notice my left eye swollen and bloodshot. Concerned, I grab a towel and wipe the water off of my aching face. I quickly pace out of the bathroom and aim towards the staircase. I stop dead in my tracks as I turn to walk down the steep stairs.
3 feet above ground, he hangs in my sight silently. Attached from the left eye socket to a chained hook, his pale body dangles in the night's absent light. A pool of blood sits right below him, dripping from his lifeless body.
As frozen as ice on a cold snowy day, I watch as my dad's murdered body forces itself into my brain forever.
Suddenly, my brain catches something unusual inches away from the pool of blood my father's wounds created.
Accompanied by a note, a red prosthetic eye lies peacefully on my carpeted floor. I pick up the folded note and begin to read. Shock suddenly fills my body as the pounding of my heart enters my ears.
"Thank you" the note states in big, red liquid writing.
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