This story is not, I repeat, NOT a zombie story. I know some of you may frown, but I was getting tired of some of the zombie stories - they're good, don't get me wrong! - but I wanted to take a different aproach to a story here.

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Sweet, Sweet Revenge

Phil leaned lightly against the wall, left foot on the wall with his right foot holding him up on the ground. He played around with his knife a bit, occasionally throwing it in the air and catching it. He loved the knife passionately, but never really used it; maybe once in awhile he would pick underneath his fingernails for dirt. He was starting to get a bit antsy in the dark room, waiting for the bolted door to his left to swing open. Phil has been waiting in this room patiently for maybe an hour, but patience can only last so long.

A click from the door had Phil motionless in a heartbeat. He did not dare to even breathe, not wanting to make any signs of his presence noticeable in any fashion. The door creaked open slowly and Phil was all ready behind it, a smile could be seen if the house wasnt so dark. A shadow of his victim was seen through the doorway as the setting sun was just behind him. Then a skinny Asian man came bumbling in with brown paper grocery bags held almost blocking his vision; his thick-framed galsses sliding down his face slowly, his combover giving him a goody-goody appearence, and his clothes made up of jeans and tucked in button-up. He somehow through his car keys on a cabinet to his left in the hallway and flipped a light switch to his right. The light emitted the hallway, casting ghostly shadows of the objects that littered the tight space. Phil slowly crept out of the way from the door and held his knife close by him; he was going to slice the mans throat and have his blood pour onto the wood flooring he stands on. Then a woman came waltzing in, making Phil stop in his tracks and jump behind the door once more.

Nice place, the young, white woman said capriciously. She took off her coat and threw it on a coat hanger, revealing her clothes that didnt cover up much. Her profession was easily obvious and most going to be enjoyed by the Asian manor would have. She looked around the room with hands on her hips, all the while leaving the door open. Phil didnt really know what to do; should he kill the man and chase the woman out, or kill her as well?

Fuck it, Phil murmured to himself. He kicked the door as hard as he could, sending the wooden piece of shit swinging into the womans side, knocking her on her side. She screamed as she came crashing down, and Phil ran on over to the Asian man as fast as he could, which was no trouble: the Asian had very slow reflexes compared to Phil. The Asians eyes widened with surprise and fright and didnt get a single word out of his mouth before Phil cupped his left hand on it and wrapped his right arm under the Asians neck, choking him.

Hows it fuckin goin, Gook?! Phil yelled excitedly. The Asian tried to scream, all the while flailing his arms to-and-fro. Phil tightened his arm around his neck, still holding on to the knife. The woman slowly looked up, holding her head with her right hand, blood seeping through her fingers.

Wh-what do you wa-want? she moaned to him. She looked like she was about to throw up with the sight of her own blood.

For you to get out of house, whore. The pay isnt going to be worth it if you stick around! Phil screamed at her, as he tightened his grip on the mans mouth. The woman didnt need to be told twice; she trekked out of the house faster than any Olympic track runner could. The Asian mans face started to turn blue from the lack of oxygen, making Phils motives even sweeter. Phil threw the man to the ground, making him stumble and try to grab onto anything he could grasp. The Asian man latched onto a tablecloth with silverware resting on top and it all came toppling down as he fell, all right onto him.

Phil laughed maniacally, put his switchblade in safety and into his pocket. Phil ran over to the Asian and pinned the man to the ground with random silverware lying on top of his back. Phil grabbed the back of the mans head and lifted it up to see his nose have blood streaming down slowly. His geeky glasses were broken; some of the plastic broke off into his skin leaving scratches in their wake.

Aww, the Gooks glasses are broken. Need help cleaning up? Phil asked, slamming the mans face into the ground. A wet slap of blood and skin echoed through the room but that seemed to have energized Phils motives even more. Phil got up hastily and reached for his knife that he put in his pocket. He quickly took the blade and cut the Asians calves four times. Blood stained the Asian mans blue jeans as he screamed in pain and agony. Phil laughed some more, right before stabbing the man in the thigh, leaving the blade in its position. Phil leaped off the squirming Asian and stood smiling.

How does it feel Hiroki? How does it fucking feel?! Phil screamed at him, giving a few laughs at the end of each sentence. The Asian man crawled towards the open door, yelling for help in his foreign accent. Aww, the bitch forgot to close the door

Phil slowly walked over to Hiroki and pulled the knife out of the mans leg, making him scream even more.

Shut up, Phil told the man in a serious tone. Hiroki held his thigh in pain and gave a few agonized shrieks. Shut up! Phil screamed again, this time giving the man a good kick in the face. Hirokis nose gave a loud crunch, the bone cracking out of place. Hirokis bloodied face fell back to face the ceiling. He gave a few more gasps of help, each breath sounding desperate. Phil stood over the man and smiled slightly.

Lets play a game, Phil whispered in Hirokis terrified face. Hiroki shook his head no frantically, making Phil smile and shake his head yes. You dont have much of a choice in your state now do you? Now- Phil continued, right before stabbing Hirokis hand into the floorboard. He screamed in agony and grabbed his injured hand, but Phil slammed his foot into his good hand. As I was saying! Ill let you run out those doorsIll give you ten seconds to run. If I dont catch you, you live. If I catch you, well, use your imagination.

Phil brought his knife out of the mans hand and helped him up hastily. Phil gave him a single word: Run Hiroki didnt need any more, he limped out of his front door, all the while screaming for help.

One Phil said, flipped his blade around. Hiroki looked behind him terrified and continued his endless scream for help. Two Phil made it to the end of his driveway, and to his red car. He fumbled with his car door, but looked back at his house and remember his keys were inside. Three Phil yelled for Hiroki to hear. Hiroki panicked and started to limp towards his neighbors house. Four! Hiroki made it to the neighbors lawn and screamed for help. TEN! Phil screamed before running outside the house. Hiroki screamed and yelled for help as loud as he could. A few people came out of their houses to see what all the clamor was.

Phil paid no heed to these people and saw the Asian man in the front lawn, trying to limp away. Phil ran over and kicked Hiroki in the back. The man fell to the ground with ease, hands frantically grasping air and didnt have anytime to try and scramble up; Phil dropped his foot heavily on top of the mans head, making Hiroki motionless, but still alive. Blood stained the once green grass, making a few curious ants to see what all the commotion was. Phil brought the man up by the hair and started to drag him towards the neighbors minivan. The Asian tried lifelessly to loosen the grip that was held onto his hair, but was then toppled onto the hood of the vehicle. Phil brought the mans head back and whispered into his ear.

Now you know how my wife feels, right before you ran her overright before you went over her for the second time to make sure she wasnt going to move again

Phil slammed the mans face into the windshield, making cracks running along the impact the mans face gave. Phil slammed it again, and again, and again. Hirokis face was, in the end, nothing more than a collage of blood, bone, and brain matter. Phil walked away casually before being stopped by an old woman who stood in the safety of her doorway.

What is going on out- she stopped as she saw the dead body on her windshield.

Just turn you wipers on, it may get his head off the glass, Phil said, laughing. Then he brought his knife out and held it towards the old woman. Get the fuck back inside! She slammed her door so fast that the door rattled and a porch light fell off its perch. The old lady may have called the cops, but Phil didnt care: he killed the man anyway.

Phil walked inside Hirokis house, grabbed his keys, and made his way to the mans car. He unlocked the door, sat down cozily in the drivers seat, started the ignition, and drove speedily out of the neighborhood, and towards the setting sun.

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Very quick story that I wrote yesterday, a bit of a "spur of the moment" kind of deal.