Some sounds command attention and cause everyone within earshot to stop what they are doing to respond to the sound. 

Truck and rail air horns are classic examples which do not cause undue stress if one is not parked on the tracks.

Unexpected sounds are often extremely stressful.

Such was the loud “schick-schick” sound of the pump shotgun which abruptly destroyed the mood in the guest bedroom where Dave’s wife, Cyndee (Cyn), was entertaining a newfound stud.

“Do you have a last request?” Dave’s question stopped Mr. Studley in mid stroke.

“Holy shit… What the fuck?” Studley’s voice went from normal to, terrified girl pitch.

“Dammit, Dave you are an asshole!” Cyn was not a happy girl. “Why do have to be so fucking macho?”

“I’m the asshole? We had an agreement, remember?” Dave continued the offensive.

“You are… an asshole, you didn’t need to come in here and wreck my evening,” Cyn spat out before adding, “Not to mention scaring the hell out of Scott."

“I could give a shit less about Snot, you broke the truce."

“His name is Scott damn you, don’t you have any consideration?”

“If you two don’t mind, I think, I will just go,” Scott wanted out of there, pronto.

“Stay put, I want to know what she told you,” Dave’s very intimidating presence froze Scott and Dave had his clothes on, a shotgun and a crazy look in his eyes.

“Uh, she told me she was married but, you two had an understanding, she never said anything about guns,” Scott’s stared at Dave’s shotgun.

“Did she tell you I don’t eat freshly fucked pussy, I don’t suck cock, I’m not submissive and I hate ketchup, quiche and Sushi?”

“Are you going to shoot me?” Scott realized Dave was a little more than a bubble off plumb.

“He hasn’t shot anyone since Iraq,” Cyn’s reassurance didn’t calm Scott.

“I got a purple heart there,” Dave smiled.

“Because you broke a finger,” Cyn reminded Dave.

“It broke because that stupid bastard turned his head when I stuck it in his eye."

“Are you sure I can’t just leave, this evening is not going well for any of us,” Scott looked toward the door.

“Stick around and fuck her some more, you got a big dick, or you had one a few minutes ago,” Dave grinned, “Kinda looks like a toasted marshmallow now."

Scott covered up with a pillow as Cyn repeated,“You are still an ass…hole,” splitting the word into two parts for emphasis.

“Shot, can you cook?” Dave flashed a curious smile, “If you are still alive in the morning, I would like a ham & cheese omelet; Cyn’s a shitty cook.”

“Fuck you!” Cyn was getting even more vexed.

“Ok but, you gotta wash your pussy first,” Dave was undaunted, “And what about Sceerott, Don’t you think you should finish with him first?”

“Dave went to asshole school, he’s a PhD hemorrhoid,” Cyn taunted Dave to no avail.

“She’s tongued my ass lots, she really likes to do that, did you smell her breath before ya kissed her?”

“Why did I marry you? Dave, one of these days I’m going to…" Cyn’s sentence was cut short by Scott

“Can’t you guys just call a truce before this gets any worse?”

“You married me for my big bent dick, remember? Hey, I’ve got an idea,” Dave lowered the gun, “Why don’t you guys start over.

I’ll get the video camera and give a play by play narration”.

“Are you off your meds again?” Cyn sneered.

“Meds? Oh fuck!” Scott’s fear factor peaked, once more.

“She’s pissed because I won’t share the LSD with her,” Dave’s eyes widened, “Did you see that? Biggest fuckin’ yellow bat just flew through the room. Couldn’t get on him or I’d a shot the fucker."

“Please stop it, Dave,” Cyn pleaded, “I’m sorry I didn’t give you a heads up before I brought Scott home.”

“You owe me, you could have called so I could just been gone for a while. Or I coulda went out to the shop to load some more ammo. I really like the magnum stuff… how about you Scrott?”

“Uh, I really don’t like guns, no offence but…”

“What? Are you some kind of sissy boy? I suppose you don’t like knives & hand grenades either," Dave leered at Scott.

“They’re ok, I just never had much experience and loud sounds hurt my ears,” Scott was clueless.

“You get used to it, kind of like the tinnitus which, I think of as, a thousand snails having screaming orgasms,” Dave’s weird look returned.

Scott broke out in a sweat.

“Dave, if you will just leave us alone for the rest of the night I will bring Jill home and we’ll both suck you, fuck you and you can lick our pussies,” Cyn was really desperate to get Dave out of the room.

“You mean Jill with one big tit and one small one?”

“Scoot, she reminds me of Jack Elam you know, that actor with the eyes that don’t track. Her nipples don’t track either but, she gives a mean blow."

Scott could hardly believe what he was hearing but, decided to stay out of the negotiations.

“Yeah, she told me she would like another tumble with you. She even told me she likes your big bent cock,” Cyn hoped this would settle Dave down.

“Well…Alright, throw in a three egg omelet for breakfast and ya got a deal… and don’t forget the Tabasco,”

A truce was declared, Dave went to put his shotgun away and Scott's tongue was dutifully employed because, for some reason, he just couldn't get it up again that evening. 

And so, gentle reader, the “Piece” treaty was re-instituted.

Scott did get up early to make Dave an omelet…Kind of a “piece” offering.