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Coming back from a vacation, with a gun pointed at her head was definitely not what Jean Saunders expected. Especially seeing a man flying around in the air, claiming to be the city's superhero.
At least he wasn't wearing that e...
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Both of our scream reverberated throughout the house and I made a move to grab something to protect myself from this mysterious stranger in my house, who was probably a burglar.
At that time, I didn't realise that I was still holding onto my leg and by some miracle, I was able to trip over empty air that caused me to stumble forward. Meanwhile, the burglar seemed clueless as to what to do, standing rooted in the spot and still continuing his manly screaming.
Lurching forward, my forehead connected with the burglar and both of us cried out in pain, staggering backwards from the pain, rubbing our foreheads with our hands.
"Jean? Jean, are you okay?" My mother hollered from upstairs and I heard their hurried steps descending the stairs. The hallway lights being switched on at the same time.
Moaning in pain, I blindly reached out for whatever object was closest to me, knowing that the person in front of me was definitely a burglar, especially seeing the iconic ski mask he was wearing.
"Mu-mum, call the police! I'm okay! A burglar!" I exclaimed and the burglar recovered from the ridiculous miraculous headbutt that I managed to do, that was due to one of clumsy moments again.
The burglar prepared to approach the stairs and I glared at him, blocking his path as I took a defensive stance, holding the object in front of me, the soft material of it not occurring in my mind.
"You think I'm going to let you get up there? I'm not afraid to use this!" I shoved the object in front of him, startling him for a moment as he regarded it with wide eyes, the shocked look in his eyes becoming one of confusion observing the object more closely.
"...not afraid to use a...towel...?" The burglar spoke in a deep gruff voice, cocking his head to one side before snickering, guffawing loudly as his shoulder shook with mirth.
"A freaking towel?"
"Wha—you, this..." I sputtered out in embarrassment, glancing between the towel in my hands and him clutching onto his stomach, his laughter still echoing throughout the living room.
Just great, Jean!
Of all things, you had to grab onto the wet towel on the couch that you dried your hair with!
...wait a minute, it's wet?
My embarrassment dissolved away slowly as I frowned, grabbing both ends of the wet towel and spinning it around my hands, coiling it.
"A...towel! A...freaking...towel, what the...heck!" He wheezed, choked by his laughter and I glared angrily at him, flinging the coiled towel at him.
"AH!" He yelped in pain, rubbing at his lower bare arm, a red tinge slowly forming on it. At the same time, my father hastily descended the stairs, a baseball bat in his hands and the fierce expression on his face transformed into a baffled one.
