She ran in front of the convenience store window, wildly waving her arms, desperately trying to get the clerk’s attention. He never looked up, engrossed as he was in his comic book and iTunes. She could’ve run inside…why didn’t she run inside? But no one could blame her for not thinking straight at that moment. She continued running, hoping to find a gas station with a more attentive attendant.

She didn’t look behind her, but then again, she didn’t need to. She could hear the low, throaty chuckling, labored breathing, and heavy footsteps. She knew he was still after her.

Who could’ve predicted that her guilt-induced visit to her childhood friend would’ve ended such horror?

Twenty years earlier, it was she pursuing him. They were children then, playing a spirited game of tag. She chased him into the street, tagging him just as he was struck by a delivery truck. She didn’t realize, as she tearfully watched the paramedics load him into the ambulance, that it would be the last time she would see him.

Until tonight. She had heard neighborhood rumors that haunted her, that he had suffered severe brain damage, that he was institutionalized, that he was insane. She couldn’t bear to discover the truth; but then, with adulthood came responsibility. She had to make amends.

She contacted his parents. Jimmy would be thrilled to see her, they had said. Jimmy didn’t get many visitors, they added. It will do Jimmy such good to see her again, they claimed.

So, she headed to St. Dymphna’s Hospital for the Mentally Impaired. She looked down at the crumpled paper clutched in her hand, upon which she had scrawled his room number. She gathered her courage, pressed the elevator button, walked into his room. She doubted he would recognize her.

How wrong she was. As soon as he caught glimpse of her, he leapt from his bed, shouting gibberish. Three orderlies tried to restrain him, aiming a syringe at his neck, but missing. He threw them to the ground and lunged at his long-lost best pal. While the other portions of his brain had long ceased functioning, whatever lobe housed the need for revenge clearly lived on.

He lumbered noisily after her as she ran for her life, managing to stay just ahead of his outreached, grasping arms. At 11 p.m., the streets of their sleepy little town were empty. There was nowhere to run, no one to hear her cries for help.

She decided to take a shortcut through the cemetery, beyond which lay a new subdivision of mini-mansions. Surely someone would be home to answer her pleas for safety.

Growing tired, she could sense him gaining on her. She panicked, and turned her head to look over her shoulder, failing to see the newly dug, empty grave in front of her.

She fell into the hole, landing with a thud, paralyzed both by fear and the broken ankle she felt snap beneath her. Unable to defend herself or attempt escape, she could do nothing but wait to be ripped apart by the hulking maniac who rightfully blamed her for his condition.

His face loomed over her, breaking into a malevolent grin. As she saw him reach for her, she closed her eyes, not wanting to witness her own demise. She felt his heavy hand on her shoulder, and heard him triumphantly bellow….

“You’re IT!”

Sorry about that. But, if you'd like to see some better stories, ones that DON'T incorporate my dad's old jokes into them, click here and check out JJ's Purgatorian site.