The man had his eyes open, but nobody was home. He lie on the tile, black and white and red all over. His swollen face cast about in wild terror and he spasmed as if he could only control some of his muscles at one time. Everyone could see that it was done, but Homer liked to make a point about these things. "I can't help but notice that you're not talking anymore, Timmy. Do you mind if I call you Timmy? You look like a Timmy to me. I have to tell you, Timmy. You were pretty rude back there." His voice was astonishingly gentle after the sudden and ferocious display of violence. Every person in the cafe was frozen in place, wide eyes locked on the huge man with bloody fists. His words were quietly conversational, but no one missed them. These had been the first words Homer had said since he'd walked up and punched the man in the throat. The man had been in the face of a server with an entitled tirade about one thing or another, it didn't matter. The server w...
Just practicing writing. Feel free to comment.