Pete stumbled backward as John advanced upon him with the staple gun. John grabbed Pete by the throat and shoved him hard against the wall, thrusting the tool into his face.

Veering off at the last moment, he stapled Pete’s shirt sleeve, then the other, the sides of his shirt, and his pants, until Pete was fastened helpless to the cheap wood paneling.

“Now,” shouted John, “you will listen to my poetry!”

“For the love of God, Montresor!” pleaded Pete.

“Damn Straight!” replied John, and he began to read…

(This is the opening for my newest book of poetry)