Over describing being hit in the face with a frying pan

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He raised the frying pan over his head, knocking his top hat clear off. It was inevitable. The whispy smoke rose slowly, as the grease from the pan drops to the floor. I firmly held the kitchen bench as he began to swing. The burning metal connected with my cheek, leaving a red mark in its wake. My face almost moved with the pan, swinging my head to the side. I hesitantly reached up to touch it, but quickly drew away and reached for the freezer handle. Pulling it open, I reached for the nearest pack of frozen anything. It just happens to be a long roll of pepperoni. I rested it on my red, burning mark that was my cheek. I looked up into his blue eyes with hatred and screamed every insult imaginable. He didn't seem fazed, he just pushed his golden locks out of his eyes. Out of the corner of my eye was the one thing I tried to take from him, that was on top of the microwave on the other side. He crossed his arms and stared at me, almost whispering the words 'Get out of my kitchen'. An idea just popped into my thoughts unexpectedly. I didn't expect it, he didn't expect it, a golden opportunity. I mustered the strength and threw my roll of frozen pepperoni at his face and ducked under his flailing arms. I grabbed the paper and sprinted out of the kitchen. I finally had it. The ancient Chanui recipe. Unexpectedly, he called out from the kitchen yelling,
"I HAVE IT DIGITALLY!"

~Dedicated to Sophia ~

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