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Here is my blog. I post short stories and stuff there... And there is really no one reading it yet. You should start reading it and make the last sentence a lie. Lies are always fun.

Woo, gay colors. Aka ALL OF THEM o'.'O Hehe, we stole all the colors. You straight peoples is stuck with no colors. Woo, the world is colorful, THE WORLD IS GAY. xD Yes, yes, I know, I'm rambling.

He dragged the struggling, mayor-filled sack across the floor. He dumped it on a couch, and it’s struggling immediately caused it to dump itself onto the floor. He ignored it, limping across the floor of the dank warehouse to a cockroach-infested kitchen. He made himself some coffee, flicking the infernal insects away. He limped back to the couch and its former occupant.

“Mmmhhmm!” Moaned the sack. “Mmmmnnhmm!” He sat on the couch, leaned down, and untied the top of the sack. Being a mayor-filler sack, as it was, its mayor was a man of many chins.

“Hello, Mr. Mayor,” he said sipping his coffee, “How are you doing today?”

The mayor glared. “The police will find me, you’ll go to jail. You should just let me go now.” He pleaded.

“I couldn’t do that, we haven’t had any fun yet.” He grinned, “My name is Richard, but you can call me Richie.”

The mayor glared again, “I’m hungry.”

“Says the fat man. You’re always hungry, that must be why our city is such a disgrace, all you ever do is eat. Rather than actually do your job.”

The mayor closed his eyes.

“Don’t fall sleep, just yet, my dear mayor, say, what is your name anyway? I really should pay more attention, they’ve been spouting your name all over the place, yelling about how you handled this, or that, or that other thing over there.”

“My named is Malcolm Hill… why am I even telling you this. Why am I here!” Mayor Hill screamed.

“Malcolm, Malcolm, Malcolm. I think I’ll call you Malky. Malky and Richie, we really do sound good together. But, my dear mayor, my lovely Malky, you are here,” Richie paused, “You are here, to play Truth or Dare!” He laughed giddily.

The newly nicknamed Malky stared. “Ummm… What?”

“Truth or Dare, Dare or Truth, you picked either Truth or Dare and I ask you a question for Truth and dare you to do something for Dare. Come on, you’ll love it, Malky.” He grinned widely, “Pick! Quick, quick, quick, pick, pick, pick!” He made it into a song, and kept singing it, over and over, as he waited for Malky’s reply.

“Well… Truth I guess.”

“Yay! I love truth. So tell me, Mr. Mayor, Mr. Hill, my lovely Malky,” he pulled a notepad and pen out of seemingly nowhere and crossed his legs, mock reporter through and through, “How much does the mob pay you?”

The lovely Malky’s eyes got wide. “But, but, they…” he mumbled something incoherent.

“Malky, Malky, Malky,” Richie said, “No use lying to your good friend Richie, just tell me, I promise I won’t tell anyone.” Richie put on his most innocent expression, which looked more like a viper than anything.

Malky sighed, “They doubled my salary. Will you let me go now?”

“Oh, no, no, no, I couldn’t do that, you have to play again.” Richie grinned a toothy grin, “Truth or Dare?”

Malky’s eyes got wide, his eyebrows raised, the perfect picture of terror. “D-D-Dare.” He managed to stutter out.

“Hehehe, DARE, dare, dare, dare, I like dares.” He leaned down and pulled Malky all the way out of the sack. “Come with me, will you?” Richie got up and limped to the door, pushing Malky ahead of him. Sipping the coffee he had forgotten while they talked.

They ascended some stairs, flight after flight, all the way to the roof. Richie stepped out onto the flat roof of the warehouse, Malky behind him. Richie led Malky over to the edge, which looked out over a busy street, full of pedestrians with cars trying in vain to reach the speed limit without killing anyone.

“Your dare, my dear, is to hit someone on the way down.” Richie pushed his dear, lovely Malky, off the building.

Scream. Crunch. Thud. More screams.

"Very good Malky, you did well."

By Auroraphobia

Again, I will personally chop your head off if you steal it.