Darrel Anderson:
It's another late night, you find yourself uncertain as to what you just saw when you opened the door to your dingy, one bedroom flat. Inside your place you find the corpses of cigarettes littering the ashtray on the dark wood, half broken coffee table that's held up by a book on one end. Next to the coffee table you have an abused and beaten couch that is filled with the scorch marks from forgotten cigarettes from forgotten times on the junk. There are a couple of needles, a reminder of what you're trying to avoid.
The place needs to be cleaned, but you've never really seen the point since it's just going to get dirty again, but this time there's a dark black stain that's seeping out from underneath your door. It's got to be from that grizzly death you just saw happen when you opened the door, someone just basically almost exploding in front of you but with no collateral damage. The walls didn't get destroyed, neither did the door you held but it was loud and explosive all the same.