The phone rang. Seth picked up a nearby brook and smashed the phone squarely on the reciever. It rang again. He dropped the broom and grabbed a hammer and began pounding on the phone with that, but still it rang, even despite all his efforts. At length, unsatisfied with the results that pummeling had produced, he answered it.
"What?" he demanded violently.
"Seth? Seth Biftech? It's your old pal, Freep Flatulent!" said the voice on the other end.
"Oh. You." Seth said, moderately disgusted with the prospect of talking to an old friend from a past he'd rather have forgotten.
"Yeah! Hey, listen, I'm in the neighborhood, mind if I drop by?"
'Yes.' he thought silently. "No, not if you're going to anyway."
"You always knew me inside and out, ol' buddy. I'll be over in a few shakes.". And with that, he hung up.
Seth shook his head a few times in disbelief. Suddenly there was a knock at the door. 'Shit' he thought to himself. "Nothing I hate more than a literal author." Seth picked up the broom he had used earlier and threw it at the door. The person on the other side knocked again. He picked up the hammer and threw that at the door. Still the figure knocked. Finally Seth decided to answer it, having not achieved much by throwing things at it.
"Seth!" said the figure. It was Freep. "Gimmie a hug ya big shit head!"
Seth promptly kicked Freep in the bullocks. Freep staggered backwards, almost falling footlong down the front steps. "Ho ho, you little sneak, you always knew how to get the drop on me!" he said as he regained purchase on the oak porch. "Mind if I come in?"
'Mind if I cut your testicles off?' he thought silently to himself once again. "Come right in."
Freep walked towards the doorway, then sprang at Seth in a bone-crushing tackle attempt. Seth, ready for such the simple sort of manoevers that Freep was so commonly using, countered it deftly with a swift knee to the nose. Freep's head flung back as he sailed into the recliner that was now directly in his path, his head connecting solidly with the foot rest.
"You sunnuvabitch," he chided as he rolled over on the floor to face Seth. "You're gettin' better!"
'No, you're just getting worse.' Seth thought to himself. "Sit down, make yourself at home." he invited.
"Don't mind if I do." Freep began rearranging the furniture to best resemble his own house. "There," he said, panting. "Oh, yes, one more thing." He picked up a hammer that was lying in close proximity and smashed out all the windows in the room. "Ah, that's better."
'Fucking literal authors.' Seth thought to himself once more. He wandered in to the kitchen and began fixing some refreshments.
"Tea?" he called out.
"What?" Freep queried.
"I said do you want some fucking TEA?!"
"Oh, um, yes, thank you. Earl Gray for me."
"I said fucking CROUTONS?"
"Oh, no, thanks all the same."
"Fuck off, you'll have Croutons."
Seth threw a packet of croutons at Freep. They hit him squarely on the nose.
"Ow." he remarked, then began munching on the Croutons. Seth, at length, returned from the kitchen carrying two cups supported by two saucers.
"Here. Drink up.". He handed Freep a cup and a saucer. Freep took a sip.
"Um," he said after sampling the tea. "I don't mean to complain, but, this tea is cold."
"Oh piss off, you didn't ask for HOT Earl Gray, did you?"
"That's another thing. It's not Earl Gray, it's Orange Pekoe."
"Oh, fucking complain complain, is that all you evert do? I suppose you're going to want MY fucking tea, now, right?"
"Er, well, no, Orange Pekoe is fine."
"Fuck off, you'll take mine. Here." Seth handed Freep his cup and saucer, then took Freep's.
"Did you spit in this?" Seth asked.
"Er, no, I just --"
"Fuck off, you spit in this, asshole!" Seth accused, smashing the cup and saucer over Freep's head. Freep bled profusely.
"That hurts. Now I'm bleeding."
"Oh, there you go again, fucking whine, whine, whine, here, let me fucking help you with that." Seth pulled out an axe from under the seat cushion and hacked off one of Freep's arm.
"Hey! I was going to use that later at some point." he said, bleeding over everything.
"Alright, that's it, get the fuck out--look, look, you're getting blood all over my crushed velour carpet, get out, just get the fuck out.". Seth grabbed Freep by his only remaining arm, dragged him to the door, opened it and threw him out. "There. that takes care of that."
There was another knock at the door.
"Fuck, what now?" He answered it. It was Freep. Again.
"Same time next year?"
"For sure, see you then."
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