Before you even step outside you can feel the cool summer breeze and hear the birds chirping. You confidently stride through the rows of abandoned tables, taking yummy-looking pieces of food at random. You whipe blood from your nose and grin. Your body still aches and your face is still numb - the beating was intense - but you won in the end. Sort of.
As you step outside you realize that you are in heaven and that everyone else must've gone to hell. What a beautiful sight! You see a few crumpled cars, noses bent to accommodate walls, but one car - a red sports car - seems to have barely nudged a tree. It's running and the keys are in the ignition. The seat-belt is still buckled. You hop in and zoom home.
Or at least you try. When you reach the traffic lights you find that there is a bit of a jam. Oh well, it's a nice day for a walk. You whistle a merry tune and pull some soggy fries out of your pants. Thinking back to the bitchy girls at the jock table you wish that people had left not only their meals and cars but their bodies as well.
Hey, stop that! It's those kind of thoughts that kept you out of heaven in the first place!
You kick down your own door - you'll regret that later - and burst into the kitchen to pour yourself a shot of whisky. And another. And another. And then you hear a ruckus outside...
You cautiously peer out the window, your face a carnal prize between the legs of the curtains. You're not the only one left! All the crazies didn't get into heaven, either. Figures. Why did you kick your door down? Most of them are running through the streets with crowbars smashing up parked cars but some are meandering a bit more slowly, a tad more threateningly. What do those guys want?
Foolishly you continue to stare, fascinated by the unfolding anarchy in your once-quiet neighbourhood. Suddenly you realize that someone is staring right back at you - a very big someone with a lot of tattoos and a long rope. He smiles at you, winks, and begins to head for your door.