title of your story

It is incredibly hard not to flinch when someone is throwing something at your head. It makes sense, really, why would you not move?

Unless you're just really lazy.

Or have amazing reflexes.

Or both.

Anyway, the man didn't flinch. In fact, he didn't move at all. If the woman was surprised, she was shocked when the lamp disappeared midair. Then he had disappeared, leaving her all alone.

The woman turned around slowly, only to find the lamp back on the table. Shadows shifted behind her, and she whirled around again, only to fall dead to the floor. Another woman, her best friend came in, and did some kind of high-pitched screaming. Then she fainted. The man reappeared, laughed evilly, and disappeared again.

Dafuq?

Storm was confused. This show made no sense. So she threw her remote at the television. Obviously.

Then Dale stalked in, looking pissed.

'You stupid bitch.'

'I love you too.'

'That was my fucking TV.'

'Was it now? I thought you stole it?'

Dale lifted her up by the neck, and slammed her into the wall. She kicked him, in his most precious part, and spat on his prone body. 

'It's over, Dale.' She turned to leave, and once she was half out of the door she added, 'And I'm taking the dog, too.'

That had been about two years ago. She'd moved on, but he hadn't. So, when she came home from work that day, Dale was sitting on her couch, scratching his armpits. Slob.

'What are you doing here, Dale? How did you get in?'

'Relax, I've just come to tell you I have a girlfriend.'

'Good on you.'

'Jealous, are we?'

'Nope, I'm married.'

'What?'

'I. am. married.'

'What?'

'Seriously? I have to repeat myself?'

'What?''

'I'm married, you fool. Now get out before I call the police.'

'No.'

'Then I'll call the police.'

'I don't like you.'

'Nor I you. Get out.'

'Fine. I'll be back.'

'I'm moving.'

'No you're not.'

'Yes I am.'

'I'm not going anywhere, and neither are you.'

Unlike the film, when Storm threw the lamp at Dale's head, he did flinch. It still hit him though, and he fell unconscious (or dead, she didn't give a shit) to the floor.

A/N: Sorry it's so bad, Soph. I'll do another one if you don't like it.