It's late and Socket was tired.
All he could think of was his warm, soft bed.
Socket crept right in and fell asleep.
After a couple of hours he suddenly woke.
Did he hear a noise downstairs?
Silently Socket slipped out of bed and gun in hand stepped silently and slowly downstairs.
At the moment Socket pushed the kitchen door open, glazed in moonlight he saw the parallel lines of a sawn-off shotgun.
And then only darkness.
In Memoriam: RIP: Socket