By Jonathan Byrd
Jason Statham came into my house and beat me up. I wasn’t doing anything, just sitting on the couch staring at my blank wall. Jason Statham didn’t even knock. Jason Statham pushed the door open, moved my cat out of the way and then punched me in the head. I fell to the floor, head ringing: “Why did you do that Jason Statham?” I was trying not to cry. Jason Statham saw that I was trying not to cry and laughed at me. I tried to sit up, but Jason Statham kicked me in the chest and I fell to the floor again. This time, I did cry. I was out of breath after Jason Statham had kicked me. It must have been contempt that he felt when he grabbed my shirt collar, because the sardonic smirk had left Jason Statham’s face. Jason Statham punched me again and I felt the left knuckle dig into my eye. Jason Statham didn’t stop there. I was punched in the eye again, this time I felt a ring dig into my right eye. When I opened the eye later, I could see the after image of an ugly carbuncle. Jason Statham punched and kicked me several more times, and then left me lying on the floor senseless. After Jason Statham left, I opened my eyes. Around the carbuncle after image, I saw that the house was still in order. Jason Statham had even put my cat back where he belonged. I got up, wincing because I was so beat up. I sat down and stared at the carbuncle imaged wall. Then I realized it. One thing was out of place, it was missing. Jason Statham had beaten me up and took one of my Milky Way bars.
BIO: I began writing strange and bizarre stories in the 4th grade. That year, I was referred to the school psychologist after writing a story mimicking Edgar Allan Poe’s The Tale-Tell Heart. Over the years, I have let my “sick mind” (quoted from so many authority figures) have its way with pen and paper. I tell people that I am a relatively new writer, which is a nice way of saying I am unpublished.