Im gonna write a story! · 4:23am Apr 15th, 2012

Once upon a time, there was a boy. He was 15 and very good looking. Everybody at school was jelly, so they made fun of him. He could take it, words didn't hurt him anymore, he had a high endurance to pain. But all those insults can get to someones head, right? So he plotted his revenge. He made a list of names, in the order of which they were to be executed. Back at school, nobody saw his eye twitching when they made fun of him. They never saw his menacing smile and his half closed eyes, beconing them to make him mad. "soon," he thought to himself, "they will all know what im capable of." He was athletic and strong, but not as strong as the people picking on him. He got into sports at a later age than them, so they were already developing muscle. "We'll see how good those muscles do ya when your blood pools in my back garage," he thought to himself. He never really talked much. He had nobody TO talk to. His girlfriend always offered to talk about it, but she couldn't know. She WOULDN'T know. She'd never know. Friday the 13th, what an ironic day to start planning. This weekend will never be the same for him... or his first victim Greg (made up name). "Hey Greg" he said, malace in his voice, "want to hang out?" "And why the fuck would I want to do that, bitch?" Greg said, clearly irritated that he even offered to hang out. "I have weed," he said, knowing he hit a week spot. "... Ill be over in an hour" Greg said, hanging up the phone. He smiled, knowing that the garage will look very ravishing in a new shade of red.
Greg came over, fashionably late of course. "Greg, my parents cant know that I smoke weed, so we're gonna go into my back garage, ok?" he said, hinting nothing. "Whatever, fag," came Gregs reply. The two boys made their way to the shed, one swagging his way there, the other taking his time, his pupils growing menacingly small in anticipation of what is gonna happen. "Here we are, I suppose" Greg says, walking inside. "Ill be in ina little bit, I gotta piss" he said. Soon as he was out of sight, he grabbed his bow from under the garage. He drew a broadhead and scratched the roman numeral for "1" onto the side. "First blood," he says, "deserves a memorabilia." "You jerkin off or something?" he heard Greg say inside. "Hold your goddamn horses for one goddamn second" he said, as he walked in. "Greg, my stash is next to the wall over there, go get it" he said, stealthily drawing an arrow. As Greg walked over, he took aim. "No kill shot" he told himself, "Greg's gonna suffer." As they arrow soared, it hit Greg in the calf, pinning him to the wall. "Jesus fucking Christ, my leg!" Greg says, "I think it's bleeding." "No shit, Sherlock" he says, laughing at his own joke. "Why the fuck did you do that?" Greg asked. "Can you really not figure that out?" he asked. "Im sorry, man" Greg says, crying. "You're lucky that im feeling sympathtic, or else id torture you" he said, "I think that for apologizing, you deserve a quick death." He took aim, going for the heart. "Achoo!" he sneezed as he released the arrow. The arrow dipped, hitting Greg in the stomache. "AAAAAAAAH" Greg yelled into the night, startling the neighbors into calling 911. "Fuck!" he exclaimed "im so fucked!"
He was pacing in the yard when the police arrived. "Kid, what are you doing?" one officer asked. "The sick fuck killed Greg, right in the garage!" The police ran into the garage, their mistake. "Im going to hell, and im dragging one of you down with me" he said, picking up his bow and taking aim at the middle officer. The officer fell with a *thud* alerting his colleagues. When they turned around, they saw the boy from the yard, bow in hand, holding his arms straight out. "Come at me, bro" He said. If he was gonna die, he was going with style. The police opened fire upon the boy, killing him instantly. "Disturbed motherfucker" the officer on the right said. "Great, more paperwork" the officer on the left said. Well, one things for certain, there will be no rainbow after this storm.

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