Fatal Games

IT'S NOT WHETHER YOU WIN OR LOSE… UNLESS YOU'RE PLAYING DEADLY GAMES!
Al was sprawled out on top of the bed, half covered by just a sheet. His body was wet with perspiration. His face was beet red and filled with terror.
"No!" Al bellowed in his sleep. "He can't be! It was all a joke! I was only joking! Noooo!" His features contorted into a gruesome mask of revulsion.
And then Al suddenly rose from the bed and came at Chip like a lunatic caught in a trance. Before Chip knew what was happening Al had his meaty hands around Chip's neck.
Chip tried to pry his brother's hold loose as he realized he couldn't get any air.
He slapped his brother in the face as hard as he could, but Al's grip only tightened.
"Al!" Chip croaked hoarsely as Al's steel-like fingers bit into the skin of his throat.
Al was strangling him to death!