Birds were singing. Morning dew clung to neatly cut blades of grass. Clouds elegantly moved along the sky. Cars drove by. The world was now just waking up.
A subtle glimmer of sunlight shone through the curtains of the bedroom, leaving eccentric patterns along the carpeted floor. Hank had just now awoke. Blinking away the sleep, he slowly sat up and let out an awkward yawn. Gently throwing off the covers he slipped out of bed and headed to the kitchen.
"Good morning, Ladybird," he solemnly spoke to his beloved bloodhound, giving her a pat on the head.
"Woof," Ladybird replied.
"Tell me all about it, girl," Hank responded. He strolled over to the fridge and opened it to peer at the contents inside.
"Well, good morning."
Hank turned around to see his wife, Peggy, standing in the doorway of the kitchen.
"Good morning, Peggy," Hank replied with a slight smile. Closing the refrigerator door he walked over to Peggy and gave her a kiss.
"How about you let me cook breakfast again this morning," Peggy suggested, already pacing towards the stove.
"Well, sure." Hank replied, going along with Peggy's idea. Letting Peggy cook breakfast, he turned around and walked out of the kitchen, headed to the front door. He opened it and looked outside for a moment, taking in the lovely sight of his lawn. He then bent over and picked up the newspaper. Closing the door again he made his way back to the kitchen to read.
Hank took his seat at the kitchen table and unfolded the newspaper, beginning to read. Just then an annoying housefly began to buzz around his head. He attempted to swat it away but with no prevail.
"Ugh!" Hank exclaimed, attempting to hit the fly with a newspaper. "This fly is almost as annoying when you and Luanne thought charcoal tasted better than propane!"
"Well, I'm sorry, Hank, but let's not bring that up right now." Peggy replied, placing a few strips of bacon down on a skillet. As the bacon sizzled she turned to look at Hank swat at the fly. "Here, give me that," she said, somewhat annoyed with the fly and Hank's failures at killing it. She marched over to him and took the newspaper away, beginning to aimlessly hit the air.
"Ho yeah!" she triumphantly yelled, as she managed to knock the living shit out of the fly," That's how Peggy rolls!"
"Well, good for you, Peggy!" Hank congratulated her, slightly annoyed with her arrogant display of killing a housefly.
Peggy continued to boast about her victorious fly killing.
The sizzling bacon continued to sizzle.
Hank stared at his wife, agitated.
The sizzling bacon continued to sizzle.
Peggy continued to gloat.
The sizzling bacon continued to sizzle.
"God dangit, Peggy!" Hank yelled, flipping the table," No one cares about you killing that God dang house fly! I tell you what!"
Peggy stared at her husband in surprise," Oh, I'm sorry Hank, but you shouldn't flip the table over that!"
"Don't talk back to me! I'm gonna kick your ass!" and with that, Hank leapt over the table and grabbed Peggy in a chokehold. Peggy gasped for air. Leading her to the stove Hank pressed her face inches away from the sizzling bacon.
"Hank....! What the... hell.. are you doing?!" Peggy gasped, in a strangled attempt to speak.
"If you can't take the heat get out of the kitchen!" Hank screeched, slamming his wife's face into the pan of bacon and grease.
Peggy let out a deafening scream as she felt her skin start to burn and stick to the skillet.
Hank began to repeatedly hit Peggy's head on the stove, her hair catching aflame from it, turning her into a human torch. He shoved her onto the ground and started stomping on her as she let out pathetic wails and screams for help.
All the commotion had woken Bobby up and he came running from his room and into the kitchen," Mom! Dad! What are you doing?!" he screamed in surprise.
"Dad!" Bobby cried out loud, running over to him to make him stop. "Cut it out!"
Hank furiously opened a drawer and pulled out a knife, lashing out at Bobby," You just ain't right, boy!" he screamed, as he stomped over to his terrified son, leaving Peggy's corpse to burn.
"Dad! Please!" Bobby pleaded, backing into the wall. He then quickly opened the door and ran as fast as his fat little 13-yr-old legs could carry him. "Help!" he cried.
"It's no use, Bobby! I told you to do a better in P.E. didn't I?!" Hank exclaimed, chasing after his son. He grabbed Bobby and tossed him onto the concrete driveway. After landing a few hard kicks in Bobby's side he knelt down," You made a horrible comedian," he said in a wry tone before stabbing him in the side.
Bobby let out another loud cry for help but was silenced when his dad repeatedly began to stomp on his face, beating in his skull.
Hank picked up Bobby's limp corpse and cut into its stomach, tearing it open. Entrails immediately fell from the incision along with an immense amount of blood that continued to drip. He tore out Bobby's intestines, kidneys, stomach, liver, lungs, everything, until Bobby's dead body was hollowed out.
"Happy Thanksgiving!" Hank exclaimed, following by laughing at his own pun. What a stupid joke. It was still currently August! LOL!
Putting aside the organs, he stripped the corpse of its fat and flesh, cutting them into perfect squared chunks of meat. Hank then picked up Bobby's harvested body and tossed it on Bill's lawn as display of dominance and left either arms or legs on Dale and Boomhauer's lawns.
Seeing at how the entirety of his house could potentially begin to burn down from Peggy's flaming corpse, he grabbed a hose and put out the fire. Hank inspected Peggy's dead body, poking it around with his foot.
"It would have cooked better if it was cooked with propane on a Strickland grill." Hank stated, beginning to laugh at his own joke. It was so funny! LOL!
Going back outside to pick up Bobby's filleted flesh, he discovered Dale staring at the perfectly cut pieces of meat laying on his driveway, a pool of blood leaking onto the asphalt of the road.
"Hank! What have you done?! I trusted you! But it turns out you were a part of all the secret societies the government's been covering up!" Dale yelled, pointing an accusing finger at Hank, "Killing your own wife and son! A sin! A sin I say!"
"Dale! Get over here so I can kick your ass!"
"Aaaaugh!" Dale screamed, running back home.
"There can be no witnesses." Hank said in a solemn tone as he did an intense pose, a sudden breeze blowing through his hair. The sweat on him glistening in the sunlight. His glorious cheek bones gave him a burly, and bedazzling look.
Hank chased after Dale. Seeing him crawl through the window of his home and into his room. Hank ran over to Dale's front door and kicked it several times before slamming into it and knocking it down.
"Come here! I will definitely kick your ass! I tell you what!" he mightily screeched, wildly running around in Dale's house. Searching, searching.
"Aaaaagh! Go away! You m-monster!" Dale shakily cried out, pointing a dagger at Hank. "You can't kick my ass if I kick yours first!"
"Dale, that's asinine!" Hank exclaimed, marching over to his friend and bitch slapping the dagger out of his hand.
"Stay away from me!" Dale screamed once again.
It was all in vain. Hank pulled off Dale's shades and dug his fingers into the sockets of his eyes, receiving painful screams from Dale. He started to tear at whatever hair Dale had left on his head and then slammed his head into a wall. Hank then repeatedly kicked Dale in the stomach.
"I'm sorry, Nancy! Joseph! I'm so weak!" Dale managed to choke out before having his throat slit from the relentless Hank.
Hank began to kick his once friend's dead body around for a while before walking out of the house.
"I still need to grill those leftover chunks of meat from Bobby." Hank thought to himself as he casually strolled down Rainy Street in blood-soaked clothing. "The boy ain't right, I tell you what."