Somewhere in Nevada…you were at a Grunt’s Hotdog stand trying to order a hotdog, obviously. The Stand Owner Grunt speaks in a kind voice while leaning on the counter.

Stand Owner Grunt: “Hey there! What can I get for ya today?”

Before you even answer, his head explodes, blood, gore, and brain matter flying everywhere including in you. His lifeless body fall over immediately to the right, his decimated head landing with a wet splat as blood oozes and pours out, there’s nothing more than just a pile of red mush.

You stand there in pure shock as you slowly and shakily look over to see a man with a zipped up coat, a bandana around his mouth, black goggles with red lenses, fingerless gloves, and a black beanie on his head walking over towards you, holding a shotgun in his hand, the barrel still smoking.

He approaches the stand and goes behind it, making himself a couple of hotdogs as he holstered the shotgun, and he didn’t even acknowledge you the whole time as he did so.