Brutal Luke Jones

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Luke Jones looked at the deadly gun in his hands and felt vengeful.

He walked over to the window and reflected on his surroundings. He had always hated Cleveland with its cruel, creepy city. It was a place that encouraged his tendency to feel vengeful.

Then he saw something in the distance or rather someone. It was the figure of Stewart Mark. Stewart was a controlling coward with dirty legs and a fat stature.

Luke gulped. He glanced at his reflection. He was a brutal, cold-blooded, whiskey drinker with bulky legs and buff arms. His friends saw him as a wicked, wild wolf. Once, he had even helped an exuberant Stewart's mom recover from a flying accident.

But not even a brutal person who had once helped an exuberant Stewart's mom recover from a flying accident was prepared for what Stewart had in store today.

The rain hammered like escaping owls, making Luke stressed.

As Luke stepped outside and Stewart came closer, he could see the spotless smile on his face.

"I am here because I want Revenge for death," Stewart bellowed, in a bold tone. He slammed his fist against Luke's chest, with the force of 5354 lizards. "I f****** hate you, Luke Jones."

Luke looked back, even more, stressed and still fingering the deadly gun. "Stewart, I will kill you," he replied.

They looked at each other with sick feelings, like two steamed, striped snakes swimming at a very rude family reunion, which had dubstep music playing in the background and two daring uncles rampaging to the beat.

Suddenly, Stewart lunged forward and tried to punch Luke in the face. Quickly, Luke grabbed the deadly gun and brought it down on Stewart's skull.

Stewart's dirty leg trembled and his fat arm wobbled. He looked tormented, his body raw like a knowledgeable, kooky katana.

Then he let out an agonizing groan and collapsed onto the ground. Moments later Stewart Mark was dead.
“Finally,” said Luke “Finally he is dead.” then as Luke was walking away he looked back at where Stewart’s body was and it was gone…

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