The Murky Darkness of Small-Town Ineptitude

Something slinky this way comes… Image by Author, created in AI. Billy Peckerwood knew that he shouldn’t have been walking along the dark road at that time of night, as nothing good ever happens on dark roads that you shouldn’t be on when the sun has gone somewhere else. But it had been a very disconcerting evening thus far, especially the mess at his high school prom wherein that one girl got really irritated about something or other and killed several of his classmates. (He didn’t know the now-dead kids very well, not his kind of people, so it hadn’t been that stressful, but still.) Billy just wanted to go home, maybe make a sandwich, and then head off to his bed, upon which he would restlessly toss and turn until he could hear both of his parents snoring, at which point he would furtively pleasure himself to mental images of a certain cheerleader that didn’t know his name. (Oh, don’t judge. He’s 17. These things happen.) Billy was really invested in getting to the furtiveness, and…