This is bad, Dean thought. John shoved his entire fist into sixteen-year-old Dean’s skull. Blondie screamed but John tore out his vocal cords.
“NO GAYS ALLOWED IN THE CLUBHOUSE!” John roared. After a pause, he added, “No girls either. Only boys in the clubhouse. But it’s not a gay thing. It’s a boy thing. A boy thing that is not gay,” he clarified to the corpse of his dead son and the corpse of his dead son’s would be first-gay-hookup.
“It seems gay to me,” Sam, the astute twelve year old said, appearing out of nowhere.
“Son, it’s time you learned that kneecaps are a privilege and not a right.”
“That's not what I learned in law school,” Sam from the future said as he appeared suddenly in the doorway.
“You went to law school?” John asked. “Yeah.” “Gross. Laws are for gay people. Us heterosexuals just commit crimes.”
“That's what you think,” future Sam said as he scattered like dust in the wind, just like the Kansas song.
“Wow, that was dramatic.” the younger version of Sam said. “Yeah…. dramatic in a kinda gay way,” John said suspiciously.
“I guess so,” Sam said, clearly oblivious and daydreaming of college, which is mostly filled with liberals and gays and gay liberals.
“Rat smasher,” John said. “What?” Charlie Kelly appeared in the doorway as well, which seemed to be some sort of portal apparently, and smashed the young version of Sam with a bat.
“Rat smashed,” Charlie nodded solemnly at John.
“Rat smashed,” John nodded back as Charlie bashed himself with the bat.
“Rats all smashed,” John said to the room filled with nothing but corpses. “Guess its time to avenge my dead wife among heterosexual things.”