(In which your monkey writes something for 10 minutes and then posts it, for no reason other than just to do it)
Jack ran across the room and punched Bert square in the eye, dropping him to the ground with a resounding thud.
“That’s for taking the Lord’s name in vain,” Jack bellowed, his voice hoarse and straining.
Bert rolled over on his stomach and slowly drew himself back up on his knees. He massaged his swollen eye with his fingertips. “Fuck, man. Fuck. You don’t have to punch me. All I said was that we’re never going to get out of this goddamn elevator.”
And like a flash Jack was on him again, wrapping his right arm around Bert’s neck and punching wildly with his left hand. “No. No. No. No. No. We don’t say that here.”
Bert let his knees give out and dropped back to the floor. He wriggled backwards and out of Jack’s grasp. Jack turned back around to face him, but held his ground.
Bert, now panting but no worse for wear, staggered back up on his feet.
Christ, he thought. He smiled faintly at the realization that even his thoughts were blasphemous right now. Of all the fucking nutjobs in the world to be stuck with during a blackout.
It had to be Jack-y Jesus and the punchy bunch.