“Larry would never do something like that,” I said obliquely, thinking aloud to myself.
“Oh yes he would, and he did.” She smiles back at him, wondering what he’s thinking.
No way, he can’t have, thought Gerald. Larry’s a stand-up kind of guy. “I don’t believe it,” he said aloud, shuffling his feet incompetently.
“I don’t get it,” you’ll say, misunderstanding what everyone’s thinking. “What is it that I’m supposed to have done?”
“Well, if you don’t know, I’m certainly not going to tell you now!” I poked him in the chest, signifying that he was guilty, guilty, guilty beyond a reasonable doubt!
“I wouldn’t tell him either,” she says, winking at him to suggest he might be getting some horizontal action later!
Now I’m wondering if maybe I was wrong about Larry, thought Gerald. Everyone else seems to have made up their mind about him. Maybe I should be a joiner too. “Smug little bastard,” he said at last, spilling his drink to emphasize his distaste for the tasteless activity that had been performed.
“You’re all against me! All of you!” you’ll complain, looking around desperately for a way by which you can be able to make your escape.
I knew the time had come. I drew my phased plasma blaster which I’d kept until recently in the chest at the back of my closet. Larry was going down.
Francine hates to see Larry grovel for his life, but the man has told his last lie. She sees the blaster shoved in his face and knows that he’s going down.
This is insane, thought Gerald. Larry’s lied once too many times. “Dude, you’re going down,” he said, watching the fingers tighten on the trigger.
The blaster will poke your face like some great, pokey weapon shoved in your face, and you’ll know that this is The End at last, that you are indeed going down.
“And that’s what happens next,” said Boyd, the GM. “What do you do?”
Harley shrugged. “I start a fight.”