Shaddup
It was late, almost midnight. Tina Walker stepped off the bus, and began digging in her purse for the house key as she made her way up the front path. Across the road, she noticed a man struggling to load a van with some boxes, FRAGILE printed on the side of them. He wore a cast on his left arm, and though she wanted nothing more than a hot shower and a cup of coffee before bed, Tina felt it would be rude to not offer this man some assistance.
"Hey, Mister! Would you like some help?" she called, trotting over to him. "Oh yeah, I'd appreciate that, thanks," he said, managing a smile. He motioned towards a box he was trying to lift. "Here, can you help me put this in the van?" "Sure," Tina replied, bending to pick it up and she pushed the box into the van. "Do you think you could put that at the back with the others?" the man asked. Tina nodded and clambered inside, grabbing the box again.
As she turned back towards him, he said, "Hey, are you a size fourteen?" Although startled by such a personal question, Tina decided to answer it anyway, "Yeah, it depends on what I'm wearing though. Sometimes I fit into a fourteen, sometimes a sixteen…." But she didn't get to finish her reply as the man brought his cast down on top of her head with a crunch.
Tina staggered, "What the hell didja do that for?" He bashed her head again. "Ow, man, cut that out," Tina groaned, falling to her knees. Again and again, he pummelled her with the cast. "Stop that, whatcha doin' that for, oww me head, I think I'm bleeding here, bastard." Why wouldn't this bitch just fucking lie down? One more crack on the head and she finally slumped to the floor, to Buffalo Bill's astonishment, still mumbling incoherently.
That would have to do; his arm was getting sore from hitting her so much.