The Execution Threat
Leo stood frozen in the middle of the street, arms stiff at his sides, sweat slowly rolling down his forehead.
“I don’t get it,” he said, voice shaky. “What did I even do? You’re really about to execute me? Like—seriously? What could I possibly have done to deserve something this messed up?”
Michael didn’t answer. He stood sideways—calm, quiet. Then, slowly, he turned to face Leo.
“You just came from a massage place, right?” he said. “And walked out without paying?”
Leo blinked. “Oh… right. But I had a coupon!”
Michael nodded slowly. “Alright. Show me the coupon.”
Leo instinctively reached for his pocket—then stopped. “Oh shit… my pants. I left them at the massage place.”
Michael smirked. “Yeah. Heard that one before. I’ve heard all the stories. You’re not special.”
He stepped forward, raising one hand slowly—flat, steady, sharp. A perfect hand-blade.
“If you don’t have the coupon, that’s fine. Massage was $150. And for wasting my time? Another $150.”
He crouched slightly. “Total: 300 bucks. You pay, you walk. You don’t…”
The Rulebook
With the briefcase still dangling from his right hand, Michael popped it open and, using his left, neatly pulled out a laminated ID and a spiral-bound rulebook.
He held up the ID:
Humble Organization – Higher-Up Executioner. Michael L.
Then he flipped open the rulebook and tapped on a highlighted page.
“It’s written clearly,” he said. “Anyone who receives massage services and attempts to flee without paying must be executed on the spot. No exceptions.”
Leo’s eyes widened. He suddenly remembered the headless bodies he’d seen earlier on the street. It all made sense now.
He whispered, “Those bodies… those were your doing?”
Michael nodded. “They all thought they could skip the bill after enjoying extra services. They all thought they were clever. They all ended up the same. On the ground. Like garbage.”
He raised the hand-blade again. “I’m giving you ten seconds. Pay up, or I execute you.”
Leo swallowed. He checked his pockets again. Nothing.
“…Shit. I’m screwed.”
Booger Attack
Michael had already started counting down.
“Ten… nine… eight… seven…”
Leo’s brain short-circuited. He had to act fast.
Then—an idea.
Without warning, he shoved both fingers up his nose, twisted once, and yanked out two globs of boogers.
Flick. Flick.
Two tiny green missiles flew through the air.
Booger attack.
Michael didn’t blink. He gently jerked his head left, then right.
Both boogers missed by inches.
BOOM! BOOM!
Two tiny explosions lit up the street behind him like New Year’s fireworks.
Leo’s jaw dropped.
“…Shit. I’m all out of boogers.”
He turned to run. But he didn’t get far.
Just five meters in, Michael was already there—standing right in front of him.
Leo froze. Michael had simply jumped. A soft, effortless hop… and landed straight in his path.
He raised the hand-blade again. Lowered his stance.
As Michael charged in—fast, almost lightning-speed—Leo’s body just stopped responding.
He couldn’t move. His pupils dilated, and in front of him, all he could see was one word:
DEATH.
It felt like his fate had already been sealed.
His demise was coming fast, and somehow… he’d already accepted it.
Michael’s hand-blade came slicing down toward his neck.
That’s it. That would be the end of Leo.
Wind Rescue
Then—
A gust of wind tore through the alley.
And Leo vanished.
Michael blinked.
A blur shot down the street—low, fast, animal-like.
A man.
Running on all fours.
His mouth clenched around the back of Leo’s pink T-shirt, dragging him away like a stolen gym bag.
It was Norman.
Leo dangled behind him like dead weight. Arms flailing. Mouth open.
Michael stared. His face didn’t change.
He just said quietly, “You again.”
“No wonder. You’ve run out on us so many times. Never paid. Always escaped clean.
It’s because of that ridiculous, inhuman speed of yours.
I always recognize you. Dog Man.”
Norman didn’t say a word. He paused in front of Michael for one second. Then bolted.
He ran straight up a vertical wall like it was flat ground, dashed over the rooftop—then disappeared from sight.
A Safe Drop-Off
He kept running. Through alleys. Past noodle carts. Across intersections.
He didn’t stop for ten full minutes.
Finally, he reached an open parking lot. Empty. Quiet.
He looked around—then gently set Leo down on the ground.
Leo’s body slumped. Norman glanced down…
His underwear was soaked.
“…Dude,” Norman muttered.
Leo sat up with a gasp. “Am I dead?! Did I die?!”
Norman shook his head. “No. You’re alive.”
“Good thing I got there when I did. One more second and your head would’ve been gone.”
The Real Rules
Norman continued, “You can’t just dine and dash at a massage place. These parlors are owned by the Humble Organization. They’re really strict with anyone who tries to sneak out without paying.”
“Every year, hundreds of people get extra services, think they can skip the bill—and they all end up dead.”
“I’m serious. Don’t do something that stupid again.”
Leo nodded slowly. “I get it. I’m never going to a massage place again. Ever.”
He hesitated. “But I wasn’t even trying to skip the bill, it’s just that—this old lady—”
He trailed off. It wasn’t worth explaining anymore. He just gave up.
Goodnight, Pal
Norman stood up, stretched his back, and turned to leave.
“Alright then. Goodnight,” he said. “Good luck on your first day of work tomorrow, pal.”
Leo sat there for a while, staring down at his soaked underwear.
Then he finally stood up—
and quietly started walking home.