Diagnosed with a terminal illness, Peter Katz hires a hitman to take him out. But when a cure is discovered, Peter's got to outrun the assassin to stay alive!
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When douchebag lawyer Peter Katz gets diagnosed with terminal cancer, he wants to di...
The people of Philadelphia worship said restaurant like it's an actual monarch. They pay pleasantries to it, visit it almost religiously, and seek it for nourishment with blind loyalty, which for a city famous for its efforts during the American Revolution against the English crown, is a bit of a betrayal.
Maybe it was that same line of thought that made Peter Katz commit what basically amounted to Regicide when he decided to plow through Pat's King Of Steaks at full speed. The Rocky statue, he found out, made for a perfect flail. Very sharp and tumbly. He had this sick feeling of satisfaction as he used a Philly landmark to destroy another.
"Eat a Big Mac, you commie fucks!" Peter yelled to no-one in particular as he tore down the streets. He felt good; better than he had felt since he was diagnosed. He felt as if he could do anything, as long as that anything could be done in the next five minutes, since that's how long he figured out he could last with the cops hot on his tail.
Drove after drove of squad cars tried to approach Peter, but they couldn't get close without being smashed by the tumbling statue behind him, a fact that Peter capitalized in both defensive and offensive maneuvers.
He was having so much fun that he began to hum "Eye of the Tiger" as he took down squad cars. He almost wanted to erase that Facebook post he made a few years ago calling Sylvester Stallone a spineless cuck for his performance in "Creed." Almost.
Adrenaline pumped through his body, making him painfully aware that his destructive spree would make his eventual situation worse in the long run. But he didn't care. He didn't care anymore. He only wanted to ride free and destroy hard.
Maybe, he thought, this was a sign to end it all. Go all out in a blaze of glory, like Thelma and Louise, or Bonnie and Clyde, or Globgam and Y'ight, the intergalactic Bandidos who, after robbing a Martian casino, began a pan-galactic murder spree until they were forced to flee into a star as it was collapsing into itself. A badass way to die.
Only, he would die alone. No Thelma, or Bonnie, or even a Globgam to cross over to the other side with. Only a snake, a dead girl, and a statue to keep him company as he bid a last "fuck you" to the world.
He decided to end it all by crashing into the Liberty Bell to end with a trifecta of destruction. Unbeknownst to him, the world was more than happy to say "Fuck you, too," were it not for the fact that Peter's initial assessment that he would die alone turned out to be wholly incorrect.
Annoying opened her eyes, and quickly rose up while screaming like a banshee, making Peter scream like someone who just heard a banshee scream. It was an uncomfortable scenario for everyone involved, including every dog in a mile radius from them.
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We at "Running with Scissors" would like to make the following public statement:
By now, the readers might've realized that the previous statement we made about there being only one corpse in the truck was, in fact, another clever misdirection in our part. There are no corpses in the car at all. Everyone is very much alive and well, depending on your definition of well. If your definition of well is an excavation designed to hold large quantities of water, then they're not particularly well.
