Disclaimer: I don't own ANOES or Fred. They belong to Wes Craven. Maryan is mine however.
Ch 2: If Freddy's Dead, Why are We Still Dying?
Working at the Crave Inn that day was hectic. Rude jocks groped some of the younger waitresses, Annoying pre-teens had taken the paper wrappers from the straws and made them into spit balls and shot them at the cashier. Maryan Kohl was sipping her Coke-a-Cola and reading an extremely old newspaper from 1984.
It reports "Springwood Teen, Tina Grey, Was found murdered in her own bed room tonight. Police suspect her boy friend, Rod Lane, as the killer. Weapon is most likely a blade."
Maryan smirked, her violet eyes dancing across the page. "And he killed himself in his jail cell when captured."
"Hey lady!" Yelled a ten-year-old boy. "You've been sitting there forever! Go home!"
Maryan sighs, "Manners. But I shall leave. This place no longer amuses me."
The boy laughed like an idiot. "Y-You talk funny!" His white blonde hair was messy and chocolate was smeared around his mouth.
Maryan left. Her long ebony hair slapping the child in the face as she passed.
That night, one of the parents on Elm Street had gotten drunk and tresspased into the yard of 1429 Elm.
Maryan glared at the the drunken slob of a man as he vomited in her red and green Anthurium flowers. She silently slid something on her left hand. This son of a bitch had puked in the wrong yard.
The Springwood PD was tromping around Maryan's yard, investigateeing the murder of Donald Jones. This street was clearly cursed for anyone who lived on it. Hell, Not even your granny was safe there! Entrails where strewn around the yard like confetie enough to make the medical examiner expel her whole breakfast in the red and green flowers lining the yard.