As you begin to dial, you can hear something behind you. You turn around to see a middle-aged man wielding an axe. You retreat, walking backwards into the wall, tripping down onto the hardwood. With a crazed, yellow glint in his eye, the man raises up his axe hand, advancing towards you. "NO!" You scream, holding up a blocking forearm, knowing that it's no protection from an inevitable impact... 
THUNK. ZING. THUNK. ZING. THUNK. Red streams, drips, flies, splatters. 

Then, nothing.