“Who's There?”

Jimmy poured himself some Jameson into his usual Garfield glass, two cubes of ice. He fumbled through his cupboard for some snacks, found none, fumbled through his roommate’s cupboard, and grabbed a box of Triscuits. It was 10:10 a.m., and he was now officially forty years young. He unplugged his phone, turned on the tv, and collapsed onto the couch with a thud, a sigh of relief, and a big smile on his face. He was going to enjoy his birthday alone and in complete peace and quiet.

There was a knock on the door. You gotta be fucking kidding me, Jimmy thought. No one ever knocked on his door. He was just going to ignore it. They’ll take the hint.

Another knock, and then another, and another, getting louder and more violent.

“What the fuck,” he screamed and walked angrily to the door. He looked through the peephole and didn’t see anyone. The knocking continued. He opened the door—nothing but silence, no one outside.

“Hey,” he yelled, looking down the stairwell. It didn’t even seem like anyone was in any of the other apartments. “Whoever that was, fuck off,” he yelled and slammed the door shut.

He sat back down on the couch and took a sip of his whiskey.

The knocking started again, rapidfire. He go up and bolted to the door, opened it, and, again, no one there.

“Who the fuck is there?” he screamed into the void.

He felt a punch to his face, right on his nose, and then a punch square in the gut. He keeled over, grabbing his belly, and his feet were pulled out from behind him. He landed smack on his nose and was dragged by his feet back into his apartment. The door hit him in the head and then slammed shut.

A trail of blood flowed from his nose as he was thrown by his feet onto the couch. The Garfield glass floated toward him and emptied its contents onto his face. The Jameson bottle was next. He couldn’t move his arms and couldn’t reach up to prevent the bottle from being shoved into his mouth, half a liter of the smooth elixir flowing down his throat. The empty bottle pulled out and Jimmy sputtered whiskey all over his shirt. The empty bottle came crashing down on his head.

Darkness.

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