Come here, Mr. Deadman.
The trailer still wasn't in sight.
The trails between the trailers kept turning, twisting, and misleading the Dough Boy. He was beginning to get very frustrated.
And, like before, he was ready for the slightest sound to throw and kill.
Good thing, too. A man was trying to strafe around a trailer, trying to get away. He was sweating like crazy.
The Dough Boy froze; he sensed the man.
The man then froze, too. His sweat beaded up on his eyebrows, and when the density got great enough, it fell to the ground with the most quietest drip ever.
But, the Dough Boy heard it, and he threw the cleaver at the man.
It hit him square in the chest, and he fell to the ground, suffering too much pain to even scream. The Dough Boy got the cleaver back, and then left the man to die a lonely, painful death.