Death by Cupcakes

"Come out and play, Johny-boy." Allan called out, a slow sadistic smile spreading across his face as he casually walked down the alley. He continued to stroll down the alley with his bloody, nail-infested Louisville Slugger when he found the teenager he was looking for. The pale teen was cowering behind a few trash bags covered in grime.

"Please, I beg you! Don't hurt me! I am so sorry for pouring maple syrup in your locker. I thought it was Matt's. It was just a dare. Spare me please!" The pale, filthy teen pleaded, terror plastered on his face. His jeans were ripped and had blood splatters from being hit by Allan's bat on the thigh.

"You were going to pour maple syrup in my brother's locker!?" Allan asked in disbelief. "You should be grateful you poured it in my locker, Johny-boy. If my brother found out, he would have killed you a lot slower and more painful than I intend to right now." He smirked and started to raise his bat when his cell phone started ringing.

'Ugh, Oliver has the worst timing.' Allan thought. "What, Oliver? I'm busy." Allan said, extremely irritated.

"Oh sorry Alliebaby, I didn't mean to bother you, I just wanted to ask you if you could pick up some bleach and charcoal for my next batch of cupcakes, my lovely Dandelion?" The voice over the phone asked sweetly.

"Yeah, sure whatever just as long as you stop calling me those stupid name Oliver." Allan said, slightly embarrassed, but all the more frustrated at the stupid teen who was trying to crawl away unnoticed.

"Thank you sweetie! As a reward I will allow you to try my acetone frosting first! See you at home Pumpkin." Oliver exclaimed joyfully, and then hung up. 'Finally that psycho dad of mine hung up. Now where was I? Oh right, about to beat and or kill that annoying kid, whichever comes first.' The murderous teenager thought after Oliver ended the call.

"Yes officer. An 18 year old male with brown skin, auburn hair, red irises, about five feet eleven inches. He is wearing ripped jeans, a white tee shirt, and a brown bomber jacket with a red anarchy sign on the back. He is also carrying a baseball bat covered in –"

"That's enough of that Johny-boy." Allan ripped the cell phone out of his hand and smashed it with his bat. "Tsk, tsk. Calling the police. You honestly think they are going to help someone like you? You just made things worse for yourself!" Allan said with an evil glint in his eyes while pulling up the filthy teen by the collar. "We are going to my house. My psycho dad Oliver needs a victim to try his new creation and I believe you just volunteered yourself." The American smirked sadistically. 'This is a much better way of revenge than just beating him to death since it gets me out of eating poisoned cupcakes.' He thought as his batt connected with the pale teen's skull, knocking him unconscious.