"What the hell?" Johnny said. The man looked at him with a strange smile, one that would be given to small children from grandparents. It could also be a snake leering at a hapless frog, it's hard to tell in the dimness of the room. Whatever the expression was, Johnny didn't like it one iota. "Ah, this is not hell my friend," the old man chided, "this is the Waiting Room."
Johnny swallowed a "what are you talking about" and instead quipped, "I'm not your friend, whoever you are-"
"Samuel," The man replied, "You can call me Sam."
"Uh... yeah... Sam," Johnny was throughly unconvinced, though he mentally admitted that from his car seat to this room was quite a leap indeed. Maybe he got knocked out or something and brought here. It's a conspiracy! Yeah, that must be it!
"I see that you are not convinced." Samuel picked up an ornate knife from the top of the wooden table and walked towards him.
"Hey-hey-hey what are you doing? ARGH!" Johnny screamed as Samuel threw the knife right at him.