AN: Shorter, because being shot at is bad and he'd rather experience that.
MissTreason-Haunting? Me? Why would you accuse me of such a childish indulgence?
Bo Griggs isn't sleeping well, either. Tonight was just a shit night. Crane can go to hell for upsetting Sherry so bad she locked him out.
It was a joke, that was all. And that little prick had better be at school on Monday, not dead, so Sherry will quit freaking out.
And so he doesn't have a corpse on his hands. That's hard to explain.
He punches his pillow and scowls before dragging himself up and turning on the lamp. He's just reaching for his pocket knife and a piece of wood when he spots someone in the yard.
The fuck?
He gets up and goes downstairs with his shotgun-a gift from Dad for his sixteenth. Whoever's out there is in for a nasty surprise.
Where are they? He just saw someone, he knows he did...
"Hey!" His voice is swallowed in the thick fog. "If anyone's out here, you've got to the count of three to get the fuck away!"
He steps off the porch, straining to see...anything, really. There's nothing, though.
Huh.
He goes back inside, feeling a little more drowsy. He'll sleep now.
"Ah-!"
On his bed is a handful of wet straw.
THE END