A coffee table...

"A coffee table?", asked Peter with mild disgust, "What in blazes was he thinking?".
"Well I am quite sure he wasn't thinking at all." Jibbles answered in a reproachful tone.
"Too bloody right he wasn't fucking thinking!" Anthony shouted in a loud and deep voice. "He left chain marks all over my favourite piece of god damn furniture!"
"Really Anthony. There is no need for profanity." Jibbles announced, his chin fat wobbling contentedly.
"Fuck you fatman! See how you like it when he decides to get his perverted jollies in the wardrobe your Aunt Virginia left you!" Anthony screamed.
He was starting to get angry. Speaking to these two idiots about the pains of perverted friends and expensive furnishings combined was beginning to tire him. "Fuck you both I'm leaving!", Anthony shouted.
"You sit your overbearing, power hungry, self righteous arse down you sack of shit!" ordered Peter. "We are here to discuss what to do with Michael and neither of you are leaving until I am satisfied."
Turning his head to Jibbles, he continued. "Now, you saw what happened Jibbles. You mentioned livestock?"
Jibbles re-adjusted his bow tie and his coat tails and went on. "Not just any livestock. A chicken, a horse, and a lama."
"That fuckdrain of a stinkfist took animals into my house? I will fucking defecate on him for this!", exploded Anthony, spraying the half mouthful of coffee in his mouth all over the table in front of them and crushing the fine china in his hand.
"Anthony. If you do not contain yourself I will have you sedated. Also, fuckdrain is not a word Anthony. Do try to keep your hatred within the confines of our language." Peter scolded.
Anthony looked at him as though to punch his well dressed social superior but thought better of it
and returned to glaring at Jibbles.
After staring a bit longer at Anthony, peter continued.
"We will not go into what went on with the animals because some things are just too lude. But I
wan't to know, You said he wasn't alone?"
Jibbles, excited to tell more of his story, started to gain momentum. "Well he kept referring to someone as his big black friend and someone screamed a little bit and then he said his big black friend was all covered in muck and blood and…"
"I KNEW THOSE WEREN"T WINE STAINS ON MY FUCKING PERSIAN RUG! You assfucker! I am going to rip your spleen out and make you fucking snort it!" screamed Anthony, jumping to his feet and overturning the table, spilling food and coffee everywhere, and making Jibbles squeal like a plump rodent in a ridiculous suit.
"Sit-the-fuck-down!", commanded Peter with well contained rage reverbrating in his voice.
He was immediately obeyed and order was at once restored.
The slaves came bobbing in to clean the mess and shortly after they had left Peter returned to the summary of the situation.
"So in essence, Michael likes to be chained down and sodomised by all manner of livestock until his rectum tears and he cannot take the pain any longer. After which he has a presumably large friend of the african persuasion clean up the mess and remove certain things from his rear?", finalised Peter.
"That's not all", mumbled Jibbles.
Peter threw a stern look at Anthony who sat quivering with more contained kinetic energy than a volcanic eruption in a suitcase and said, "Go on."
"Well." Stammered Jibbles, worming uncomfortably in his chair. "I distinctly heard the voice of Pastor Dennis during the commotion. I couldn't see him but I am sure he was there."
Anthony was vibrating at this point.
"Pastor Dennis?" Asked Peter. "The same Pastor Dennis who told our children at Sunday School that the size of God's phallus was why he was called "The Almighty"?"
Jibbles nodded very slowly, his eyes never leaving Anthony who, at this point, had become very still.
"He was in my house" said Anthony in a dangerous voice. "My house… My house. What did he say?" he asked placidly.
Jibbles squirmed under the unblinking gaze of Anthony, afraid of the cacophony that was going to come. "He said "Maybe this show of God's love will make a heathen host convert to the word of our savior." or something like that"
Anthony stood and strode towards Peter's study. He had been in there for a minute or so when he returned and sat calmly in his seat. Looking Peter straight in the eye he said. "Need key to gun cabinet."
Peter looked at him and said."Use your own god damn guns"
"Too far. Need to murder now." monotoned Anthony.
Peter was a very shrewd man and he could see that Anthony's need to murder did not necessarily mean just Michael. "Second desk drawer, little wooden box with an elephant on it."
Anthony nodded once and went back into the study. He then walked past with three pistols in his belt and four rifles.
"Happy hunting!" Chimed Jibbles as Anthony strode intently through the living room towards the back door.
Approximately twenty minutes later, police sirens could be heard in the distance.
"Do you think they could be for him?" Asked Jibbles.
"Jibbles. Our dear friend Anthony wanted blood. If all went well he has killed a Priest, a wealthy vineyard owner, a horse, a lama, a chicken and probably an African fellow if he found out who he was. Of course they are for him you fat little tit!" Peter smiled at the green meadow out his window and said. "Perversion, mystery and murder. This would almost make a good novel."
Jibbles looked at Peter and said "How would you end it?"
Peter pondered on this whilst drinking his coffee and answered. "I would just stop writing."