When I was in elementary school, there was this kid named Patrick in my class. He was kind of a misfit, never seeming to talk to anyone or grasp the fundamentals of Red Rover, Red Rover. On St. Patrick's Day, we used to gather around him and dance in a circle chanting, "You're St. Patrick, You're St. Patrick" with the unbridled cruelty that only boys of a certain age seem able to muster. We found the taunting so satisfying that we started doing it on other days of the year as well, like on Thursdays. We didn't stop until one day he got so enraged that he tore off running through a grassy field, only to accidentally fall into a bottomless well.
I guess I shouldn't have been surprised when his undead spirit came back twenty years later and killed all of our children, but I still kinda was, because. . .well, who really expects that to happen?
as you wish
34 minutes ago