God. Fucking. Damnit. He had his suspicions, but this? This was almost like a damn cartoon! He really had just watched four dudes walk into his house while his wife was home alone. So, being a reasonable man, he loaded his shotgun, railed back a line of coke that he was sure his dealer had been cutting with sugar, and waited for them to have their way with the woman who was only legally “his” wife. He waited a long time.

The sun rose, and one of them emerged. He gutted the bastard like a fish as soon as he closed the door. The coke was wearing off, so our intrepid hero, like any sane man would do, huffed a can of silver spray paint behind a bush. Just as he finished, the other three came out to the sight of their buddy strewn all over the garden and its gnomes. He emerged from the bush, screaming bloody murder, giving a performance with a shotgun that made Randy Stair look like a goddamn Olympic marksman. The three cucksketeers, as anyone is wont to do when confronted with a man with a silver face and a live firearm being discharged in their general direction, ran. This simply did not satisfy him.

However, they were merely complicit in the crime, and he knew where they lived, so he would attend to that business in due time. The WHORE he had married was the real guilty party here. She had heard the gunshots and screams and had naturally barricaded herself in the bedroom and attempted to call the cops. However, our hero, the ever-intrepid one, had stolen it on the way out the door. This bought him a little time, as he knew his neighbors were heavy sleepers. So he banged against the door, almost opening it. This was deliberate, however, because he knew his WHORE WIFE would be attempting to close it. Unluckily for her, as we all know, shotgun beats hollow wood door. So his plan had worked. He then kicked the door off its hinge, fished her corpse out from under the door, and proceeded to anally rape it, having the best sex of his life!

There was a moment, somewhere. The moment where he realized that there was no return. For a brief second, he paused. Then he wiped the cum and blood off of his raging erection and stuffed it back into his pants. His WHORE WIFE was dead. Now it was time for the death of the three cucksketeers.

He opened the goody bag his dealer had given him as a thank you gift for such a large purchase, crammed down three or so of whatever the brightly-colored pills were, and hopped in the expensive sports car he had rented for this occasion, noting that he was unlikely to get his deposit back after this whole mess was over. With a wild-eyed stare and Krylon lipstick, he blazed out of the neighborhood, taking a moment to flatten his bastard neighbor’s dog that always shit on his lawn.

He was halfway to the house of the first cucksketeer when he took a turn too fast. He died instantly when he landed headfirst flying through the windshield. He’s in Hell now.