Chapter 1

Author's Note I re-did this fic much better, as before I as quite ashamed of how it was before as it had a lot of mistakes because I had only joined this wonderful web site. So I'm hoping it's better this time..

Story title: Freddy's Female Foe

Author: Well It Ain't Doctor Suess

Genre: Horror/Humor

Rated: R for violence, gore, sexual content, & language

An eerie, piercing scream rang out through the large boiler room in the house numbered 1428, on Elm street. The screamrang out so loud, so shrilling, it would tingle anybody's insides. It would send shivers up and down your spine. It would make you want to break down and start bawling.

A 15 year old girl, to be turning 16 tomorrow morning, took one single wearystep. Her lips were trembling vigerously. Her eyes were darting from side to side. A few squeaks of pure fear escaped her half opened mouth. She let out a tiny whimper. What was she to do? Why was she in a strange boiler room?

The girl, Tammy Jones, pushed a strand of cherry red hair off of her face as the thought of that strange tall, broad-shouldered man standing there in front of her earlier, his right hand, which had a bladed glove on it, had been scraping along a hot, steamy boiler nearby, producing a chilling sound that caused Tammy to scream with fear and cover her ears. It nearly drove her mad, insane. Who was that man? His blades had glinted off of the low hanging lights on the ceiling above, practically blinding Tammy. She had tried to look away from the man and his blades but they both were so threatening and somehow kept her eyes glued...

The man was gone. For now at least. Was this a dream--a nightmare? Or was she really here for real? Tammy couldn't be sure. But if it was for real, how did she get here? She didn't recall walking here herself on her own two feet. Last thing she remembered waslying down and snuggling up in her warm, safe bed.None ofthis looked familiar. Did real live human beings really go around wearing bladed gloves on their hands?

"HA!"

Swivelling around to face who or what had just cackled, Tammy drew in her breath. No one was behind her. All that was there were sizzling boilers and the floorboards. She turned around again to proceed in trying to find the exit of this strange, horrible place. But that bladed-gloved-man was yet again, blocking her path. He stood there, a broad, demonic grin spread across his face. His skin was burnt-pure burnt. Every inch of his body was distorted and, well, crispy, like a plump, juicy Thanksgiving turkey. He had icy blue eyes that bore into Tammy's own hazel ones, he wore a striped red and green sweater, dark long pants, brown boots, and a dark fedora lay simply on top of his bald burnt head. Tammy shuddered, her face cadaverous. This man, this place, was so ... frightful. She could just make out the faint morbid screams echoing off the boilers and hitting Tammy square in the chest.

The man seemed so anxious. What for? Tammy could not figure out why.

"You can call me Freddy Krueger," the man rasped. "The Dream Master!" He raised his right hand high in the air above Tammy's head before slashing them out and slicing her tender, colorless skin. But before he had the chance, four sharp, razor blades -- just like the one on Freddy's hand, emerged out of Tammy's stomach, splattering blood everywhere including on Freddy's face. An aghast expression cracked across his face.

Blood spilled out of Tammy's half open mouth, and oozed out of her fresh wound. Her whole body trembled with fear and pain.

Freddy swiped at his face, wiping off the young girl's fresh, dark red blood. Good blood. Freddy was disgusted. Not to mention apalled and confused-- who had done this? Who had murdered his victim that he himself was going to slauter? Who was this newcomer, this imposter, this copycat who wore a similar bladed glove like his own.

Tammy dropped to the hard cement floor dead. Freddy could just make a tall, slender, curved figure standing in the shadows. The one who had plunged the knives inthe young, oblivious teenager.He figured it was a woman, by the way she leaned on one large hip. She tossed a strand of long dark hair over her shoulder. She placed one high-heeled black boot out of the shadows and into the dim light. Freddy's forehead wrinkled as he watched the dark silhoutte. He eyed the boot uneasily.

"Hello, Fred dear." The woman's voice was low, quite raspy, but peaceful just the same.

"Who the hell--"

The woman stepped out of the shadows and put a finger to Freddy's wrinkled, chapped lips. "Shush." She was beautiful. She was almost identical to Freddy Krueger himself. Her skin was lacerated and burned like his, she wore a dark fedora on top of her head which swooped low so that it covered only one of her cold blue eyes, she was wearing a red and green sweater which tightly outlined her curves, and her pants (which was, indeed, much tighter) were dark and very much similar to Freddy's. Her right hand wore a glove with glinting, now smeared with fresh blood, razor blades.

"Don't speak," the clone woman hissed in Freddy's ear.

"Who the fuck are you, you clone freak!?" he demanded.

"I," the woman switched to leaning on her other hip, flipped her hair and said seductively, "am Elm street's and Springwood's, newest Slasher."

"Newest slasher?!" Freddyspat, his brows furrowed.

"Yes," she insisted simply. "And I intend to keep it that way. So, you might want to find another town to torture. But yet again, they'll probably all have forgotten you by then."

Freddy shook his head fiercely, flexing his blades. "You bitch," he muttered under his breath, but unfortunately, the woman's sharp hearing heared him.

"Actually, dear Fred, I do have a proper name you know," she said with keen percision. "It's Frieda Krueger."

"Frieda Krueger?!"

"Don't wear it out."

Freddy gawked at Frieda with utter dismay and shock. She was insisting that she was Springwood's newest Slasher? It was impossible, simply absurd. Freddy wouldn't listen to it. It was foolish, nonsense really.

"Well now." Frieda placed a single blade on Freddy's cheek and brought her face close to his. "I best be going now. Ta ta," she said in a sing-song voice.

Freddy watched in disgust, andpartially amazement, as Frieda Krueger vanished in thin air with a single flick of her blades. Hmm, I never could do that, Freddy thought enviously.

Who was this Frieda Krueger newcomer, and where ever did she come from? She looked almost exactly like Freddy, and now she was insisting that she was Springwood's newest Slasher, newest killer. That spot was already taken by Freddy himself. And of course nobody would forget him, he had made them remember him already (of course he had to get all the help from that dope masked murderer Jason Vorheese) to well for any bitchy, bratty kid to forget. And who would ever fear Frieda Krueger? She was a woman, a blasted, brain-dead female. All females were a waste of precious time, all they were was good looks, bodies, and all they did was snivel after their husband's wealth, in Freddy's opinion. The reason these kids remember Freddy is because they fear him, and no one would ever fear Frieda, a giddy little female.

Or so Freddy thought.