I sat in my apartment and stared at the painting. I smoked several cigarette's, even though I don't smoke. I only smoke when I feel distressed. I felt on the verge of frenzy. I felt as if I had to kill, like it was now becoming something mundane. I smiled at the thought of blood splattered across my wall, and a decapitated corpse laying in the center of my room.
I decided I would give in to my impulse. I called the reception and asked them to send somebody up immediately, because I claimed that the shower head had broken. I then acquired the fire axe that is kept in the cupboard under the kitchen sink. I waited for the door to knock. After approximately fifteen minutes, somebody arrived. I opened the door, and stood before me was a middle aged, unshaven man wearing a fairly cheap red suit jacket, logo on the breast pocket, red tie and black trousers.
"You called?" he said, monotonously.
"Yes! The shower head seems to be broken. Could you possibly fix it?" I say.
"Oh, well I will go and get somebody to fix it."
"No! Uh, you must fix it," I wanted to kill him. I just wanted to get it done. I didn't want to wait.
"I can't, sir. You'll need a repairman, or something. I'm a doorman." He said, his eye lids slowly falling over his eyes.
"Well can you just look at it? Tell me if it needs any assistance?" I started getting annoyed.
"Fine. I can't fix it though, I'm telling you." He sighed, and walked into the apartment. He entered the bathroom, and drew back the shower curtain. I quickly grabbed the axe and stood behind him, raising the axe above my head. "There's nothing wrong here!" He said without looking at me.
"Oh, there's definitely a problem. You're just not looking. What did you say your name was?"
"I never told you my name. Anyway, my name is Eric. Look, there is no prob..."
"Hey Eric!" I shouted, as I brought the axe down into his back. I swung the axe into him several times, before turning him over. I saw a name tag reading 'Eric Johnston', and I felt relieved because I knew that I had got it correct.