When majority of the students left, I left a note in that pink youngling's locker that said the following:
"Please meet me at the fountain. I want to speak with you."
I hid behind the tree as I waited. He later showed up, holding the note in his hand. Slowly, I crept behind him and grabbed him by the back of his collar.
"No! Please don't hurt me!" He wailed in his childish British accent. Oliver began to squirm in my tight grip and it was making it hard for me to keep him still.
"Hold still!" I spat. "Lutz! Please help me!" He cried, trying to pry my hands of his collar. I freed one hand and placed it on the back of his head to push him to the fountain's water. Luckily, no one was watching.
I finally succeeded and held him at the rim, whispering "Say goodbye" before forcing his head in the water. Oliver's arms thrashed around in an effort to push himself back up but I just pressed his head deeper.
A few seconds later, he stopped struggling. I let go of him and his head was afloat in the fountain's water.
I carried the corpse and ran to the back of the school, where I dumped his body at the incinerator and turned it on.
What a baby. Can't he take care of himself?
