John nearly leapt out of bed when he heard the crash. He had never heard anything like that before. Grabbing his bat from the closet, he crept downstairs. His feet creaking on the landing made his heart race.

He reached the bottom of the stairs, and looked around the kitchen. Nothing out of the ordinary here. He proceeded into the living room and found the source of the noise.

Where there had once been a front door, there was now a rather large truck.

John let the bat slip out of his hand. “What the fuck?”

The driver side door creaked open, and a man lumbered out.

“Fuckin’ moving houses, man!” the man bellowed. “Summa bitch just jumped right out at me! You all right?”

“Yeah, I’m fine.” John mumbled, not sure what to do.

“Listen brother, I’m obviously too drunk to drive. Mind if I curl up on the couch here, and we sort this whole thing out in the mornin’?” the man asked.

“Yeah, sure.” John said, turning to go back to bed. “Sleep tight, breakfast is at 8.”