The .44 was sitting on the table, the barrel of the gun pointed with a simper at the only earner in that cottage that warm night of May. Dean stared back at the gun, the more he stared the bigger the simper grew to a point where dean could not stand it, he raised his head and glanced at the 3 losers who were his cobbers just a minute ago.
Jame's bullet wound seemed hollow
Ted's dead and cold stare seemed sympathetic.
Robert's bleeding seemed ominous.
Dean wanted to get up and get himself an appetizer, but he felt fastened to the chair, he kept staring at his expired buds, Dean felt like his head was going to blow at any second, he really REALLY wanted that to be true.
Jame's bullet wound seemed desolated.
Ted's dead and cold stare seemed charming.
Robert's bleeding seemed minatory.
Dean placed his elbows on the table and covered his mouth with his hands, his gaze turned upon the sitting .44, this time the .44 did not simper back, it was now a mocking grin, he reached for the gun as his eyes unwittingly glanced at his ex-comnrades.
Jame's bullet wound seemed clear.
Ted's dead and cold stare seemed tenderhearted.
Robert's bleeding was threatening.
When Dean had a firm grip on the gun he dragged it up to him with one hand, while with the other he grasped his duffle bag that was sitting next to his chair, his eyes moved from the gun onto his lifeless chums.
Jame's bullet wound was menacing.
Ted's dead and cold stare was menacing.
Robert's bleeding was menacing.
Dean quickly dropped the gun into the duffle bag and closed it, he no longer felt glued to the seat and so he stood up and made his way out, but before he reached for the doorknob he bid adieu to his friends.
James waved goodbye.
Ted chuckled and said goodbye.
Robert smirked and nodded him goodbye.
Dean opened the door and walked out of the cottage closing the door behind him, one of his friends said: - “Same place, same date, dont forget”
Dean would not forget, but what he did forget however was... Where the hell did he park the car?