Both guns blazing
Arthur dashed across the driveway, both guns blazing – at least 25 hoods dropped under the heavy fire. Next he entered the house, battering down the door, shot the man who had come to see what all the fuss was about, and rushed upstairs. He knew the mass-murderer was up here somewhere.
Out of nowhere he heard a noise behind him. In a flash he had turned round and hurled his combat knife. It was the mass-murderer's wife. "Try the bathroom," he thought. And lo – there, as he approached it, he thought he caught a glimpse of a bulky savage man, armed to the teeth. "That must be him," he thought.
He entered the bathroom, and there was the vicious man himself. But a rude shock awaited him – he was looking into the mirror. "What a cruel trick," he thought, "that camouflage paint really doesn't do me justice. I'll have to go for something more stylish next time."
A slight doubt remained in his mind – "am I the mass-murderer: surely not?" He barely noticed the dead bodies and wreckage as he left the house. "Perhaps I was given a false tip-off," he mused. He looked at the number of the house – 1257, 35th street (East, sunnyside up). "Of course," he realised, "I got the wrong street – it's 33rd street where he lives." And he set off at once.
