Arthur dragged his forearm across his sweat beaded forehead. His inflating lungs filled with gasoline scented air as he limped down the slippery hall, wincing from the kitchen knife lodged in the throbbing leg he pulled behind him. He wore ragged, baggy, once blue, jeans smeared in dirt and blood. His orange t-shirt was torn down the middle to his naval, revealing a hairy, red stained chest.
"You...bitch..." he mumbled between exhausted pants. He slipped forward onto the hard wood floor. "There's...nowhere...to go!" he yelled, spitting out gasoline as he clambered back to his feet. He fumbled to the end of the hallway to the shut door and shook the gold knob with escalating rage, yelling at the bitch behind it to open the fucking door right now.
"Oh...aha aha aha..." he wheezed "I...am going.... to enjoy you." He leaned his drooping head onto the wood as cackles escaped his mustached lips. Arthur reached down with great effort and wrapped his smut covered fingers around the silver handle of the knife protruding from his right calf. With a deep grunt he yanked it free and brought the red blade up to the center of the door. Cocking back his arm and quickly slamming it forward, he hacked a face sized hole into the door.
"aha ahaha...HEEEERRES ARTIIIIEEEE!" He clutched his belly and collapsed to the floor, bellowing with sick, cough littered laughter, amused by his own wit. He shakily attempted to rise but the glass screams from the opposite side of the door sent him back to the soaked ground in a fit of hysterics. He composed himself and tried once more to lift to his feet, using the wall on his left side for support.
Arthur lurched himself forward, shoving his arm through the hole in an effort to reach the knob on the other side. He grunted as the jagged wooden edges scraped the underside of his arm and disappointedly realized that the hole was too high. Only the tip of his finger was able to scrape the top of the handle. As he began to retreat his arm, he experienced a sudden searing pain from a center point in his forearm that that spread through the rest of the limb.
"Aaaahhh!" He yelped and snatched the arm back through the opening. Nestled in the middle of the arm was a flapping pair of purple safety scissors, one of the blades protruding from a maroon nest of blood.
"Bitch!" He spat as he tore the dull blade from his arm. He discarded the utensil and cupped his palm around the gushing wound as he limped back several paces, pushed off his good leg and slammed his shoulder into the door, knocking it from the frame and plummeting to the ground with a thud like a plump evergreen amidst December snow.
Through the pulsing splotches of white light that crept into his eyesight, he glimpsed a pink figure fleeting passed him. Fruitlessly, haggardly, Arthur extended an arm and grasped at the figure as darkness crawled from the edges of his vision and his head drooped slowly forward, kissing the cracked door that lay beneath him...
