Not A Cereal Guy

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Not A Cereal Guy

"--ck"

What the hell is happening before my very eyes right now? The man groans again but this time rolls over in pain with it. As he does I get a chance to study the wound on his back even better. There was a piece of wood sticking out of his back, not a branch but more like a broken off table leg or a piece of furniture.

"Holy fuck!" I repeat once more but louder. I then realize the door's still open and he's still laying halfway in the hallway, halfway in my apartment. "Oh god," I mumble to myself under my breath. Quickly, I bend down and make a poor attempt at dragging his body into my apartment and into my kitchen. Damn he was heavy. And damn he was burning up. His skin felt like it was on fire and sweat coated his entire body.

"Come on, dude, let's get you up," I say to him as I somehow manage to sit him up in the one foldable chair I had, facing forward so his back was facing me. I could feel him slightly helping me in the process of his getting up into the chair, so it's not like i was pulling up his whole body weight. Not that I could. This dude was about ten times the size I am.

"What the hell happened to you?" I said to him now standing in front of the chair so I could see his face. He looked angry, jaw clenched and eyes not daring to meet with mine. His forehead was beaded with droplets of sweat which caused a few strands of his black hair to stick to it. he doesn't say anything of course. Man this dude isn't talkative. Maybe it's the stick in his back.

"Helloooo, earth to stranger," I now say as I wave my hand in front of his face. "I would like to know why the hell there's a stick in your back and why the hell you were you laying outside of my apartment. Oh and I also wanna know why the hell your shirtless and look like you're about to barf all over my kitchen title--"

"Jesus, you ask a lot of questions," he finally spits out through gritted teeth. He groans in pain. It's almost as if just talking hurts.

I scoff. "Well excuse me if i'm confused and would like to figure out why I have a half naked stranger in my apartment."

"Can you just get the damn thing out!" he snaps at me and I jump slightly. Asshole.

"Me get it out?" I questioned, even more confused now about what's happening. "Why? Why can't you just go to a hospital?" That's when I remember. My phone. "Shit, my phone is broken too. Look, do you have your phone on you? I can call for you, since you obviously aren't in a...condition to do so."

"No!" he harshly demands. "No hospitals. Look just hurry up, I can--" he pauses to let out a slight wheeze slash scream and he clenches onto the back of the chair. "I can feel it moving deeper." Now I start to really panic. I want to question more on why there should be "no hospitals". But by the look on his face and the pain in his groans, I can tell there's no time for that.

"Okay, Okay, uh here," I swiftly move to stand behind him. "I really have no idea what i'm doing, this is your final warning," I pause to take a deep breath as I position my hands on the stick, ready to pull. "This is gonna hurt." I yank on the stick as I screw my eyes shut and he lets out an ear shattering scream. He grips both hands onto the back of the chair as he lets out a painful wail.

"Damnit!" he screams.

"I'm sorry, I'm sorry I told you I had no idea what I was doing," I apologize in panic. I stare down at my hands and trembling fingers which are now covered in red. You'd think i wouldn't be fazed by this considering the number of zombie films I've watched.

"I think I'm gonna be sick," I admit aloud before gagging.

"Just pull it out!" the shirtless man sitting in the chair with his back facing me growls. Is man the right word to use? There's no time to question that right now, and there's definitely no time to question why I need to question that.

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