Richard got a cold look in his eyes. A chilly look. Freezing. Rigid, even. He pursued his quarry, walking on the bells of his feet. He pulled out his gun. He was ready. Prepared. Set. Primed, even. He pulled the trigger. He eviscerated his quarry. Decimated him. Obliterated, even. Richard made his way home. He was contented, blissful, placated, rapturous, mollified.

He made his way home. Barbara, anxious, wondered what kind of mood Richard would be in. Richard opened the door. He hugged Barbara. he embraced her. He cuddled her. Barbara was relieved. Richard would not beat her tonight so she thought. Richard asked what was for dinner. Ham, Barbara replied.

Richard made the clicking sound in the corner of his mouth. This signaled that Richard was angry. Mad. Furious. Apoplectic, even. "Now you have made me angry. I told you I wanted steak." Richard replied.