It's late and Turqe was tired.
All he could think of was his warm, soft bed.
Turqe crept right in and fell asleep.
After a couple of hours he suddenly woke.
Did he hear a noise downstairs?
Silently Turqe slipped out of bed and gun in hand stepped silently and slowly downstairs.
At the moment Turqe 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: Turqe