So Pepe escaped the creepy Cyclops. Good.
Pepe knew something was watching him. No, someone was. But what Pepe would do he had no clue. There was a small rustle, and it could've been any other animal in the woods. Relax, Pepe told himself. But now, this was the sound of human footprints. Ice coated Pepe's stomach. Without turning around, Pepe brandished a small dollar store pocketknife. No regular human walked around in the woods at this time.
"I'm gonna kill you," Pepe growled, but could hear it quiver and shake with fear. "Oh, please don't," said an earnest but drawling and wry voice. "W-who are you, exactly?" Pepe asked, knife still in hand, apprehensive, knuckles white. "Wicked witch of the West, no duh. Who else?" the drawling, languid voice replied sarcastically.
"Oh, yeah?" putting as much casualty as he can to his voice (Pepe). "And I'm Dorothy." Pepe lowered the weapon. "Who are you, really, and what do you want?" Pepe asked, more curious than scared. "I'm someone, and I want food." The guy said flatly. "So, you corner me? All I got is trail mix."
"Put that stupid thing down."
"No."
"Don't make me kill you."
"Why would you."
"Because I'm hungry."
"All I got is trail mix!"
"I don't do trail mix!"
Pepe needed no interpreter to understand this.
He was dead. Meat.