Tom loaded the squishy dart into the gun he had chosen, a large one that held twenty five of the darts at once. Tord was sure to loose! He slipped the spaghetti strainer over his fluffy hair. "Tord would loose..." He thought, but the more he thought it, the more it became evident that would not happen. But Tom had a shot, right...? Right.
Tom had a lot at stake here! A whole nights worth of dishes! Not on his watch.
Tord crept through the house on all fours, a pot holding down his devil horn hair. He had war paint smeared on his face, which was really just ashes from his last cigar. A smirk slowly grew across his scarred face as he spotted his victim. The silly jahovahs witness who had challenged him to a nerf battle! What a joke! Tord held up his nerf gun, a small one obviously. The bigger one would weigh his down. He aimed with confidence, only the kind of confidence an experienced killer would have. He shot! The bullet flew...right into toms eyes socket
Tom let out a shriek as the dart flee into the darkness that was his eyes, he watched Tord run over. The red hoodied communist looked terrified as he peered into toms eyes and said "Where the fuck did that dart go tom?"
Tom stated Tord straight in his dirty communist eye and whispered "it's gone now" before walking away to start on the dishes, leaving Tord confused, concerned, and scared for his life.
