Today's OneWord: Slither

I could feel his hand slither against my hip, and that was when I pulled out the gun. It slipped out of its holster like meat sliding from a greasy package, and it felt wet and foreign against my palm as I raised the barrel and pulled the trigger right between the bastard's eyes. I expected a delicate hole in his head, a trickle of red. I did not give him a beautiful death. His head very much exploded, like a volcano, and he toppled to the floor with his blood and shattered bone pooling around him like magma.