The Fourth
Seymour Skinner awoke to find himself amongst the dead. He sat up, his senses dull and his mind distracted. He was in the old churchyard, surrounded by weeds and crumbling monuments. He tried to stand, and was met with searing pain in his side. His muscles were torn, and his newly formed scabs cracked as he moved. Setting his resolve to his survival, Skinner stood, hunched over to one side. He staggered off, to warn whoever he could.
Because of his wounds, Seymour had to walk very slowly and carefully. He had awakened at noon, and reached town just barely before nightfall. He knew that he had to get home, and contact the old priest…what was his name? O'Finnegan? O'Flannel? O'Flaherty. He had to reach O'Flaherty and tell him about the vampire…vampires. Where there was one there was always at least two.
He came at last to his home. The absence of cars in the driveway indicated to him that neither Arlie nor his wife Edna were home. He stumbled inside, and into his study. Seated at his desk, Skinner penned his confession; he told of the 'club', and all their deeds, how they met Courtley, how they went to the Little Shoppe of Evil, purchased the blood and artefacts of the vampire C. Montgomery Burns, how they had killed Lord Courtley, and how vampires were now at large in Springfield.
As he finished his confession, he heard the front door close. Rising gingerly, Skinner took the letter and folded it neatly. The study door opened, and Seymour's son, Arlie, did enter.
"Oh good, Arlie. Son, I have a task for you of utmost importance. I need you to go to St. Andrew's Catholic Church and ask whoever is there if Fr. O'Flaherty-" Skinner was again cut short, this time by a kitchen knife to the stomach. "Damn it! Can't a man finish his sente-ach!" he gasped as Arlie twisted the knife. Skinner collapsed, the knife jutting from his stomach.
Burns materialized from the shadows.
"The Fourth!"