Miss
      Smedley
      screamed
      and
      fainted.
      When
      she
      came
      to,
      she
      left
     
     
      the
      class
      and
      refused
      to
      return
      to
      teach
      until
      a
      priest
      was
      hired
     
     
      to
      exorcise
      the
      classroom.
     
    
   
   
    
     
      For
      written
      across
      Kenny’s
      blood-red
      rose
      was
      a
      message,
      writ
     
     
      in
      a
      substance
      that
      could
      only
      be
      blood.
     
    
   
   
    
     
      It
      read,
      ‘‘Nota
      bad
      likeness.
      Signed,
      your
      dark
      deity,
      Satan.’’
     
    
   
   
    
     
      It
      was
      dark
      in
      Chris’s
      basement
      bedroom.
      Chris
      was
      snoring
     
     
      loudly
      and
      dreaming
      of
      something
      unprintable.
      It
      was
      plain
      that
     
     
      he
      was
      enjoying
      the
      dream,
      fora
      funny
      grin
      was
      plastered
      across
     
     
      his
      face.
     
    
   
   
    
     
      So
      he
      was
      understandably
      annoyed
      when
      a
      scratching
      noise
     
     
      woke
      him
      up.
     
    
   
   
    
     
      It
      was
      three
      A.M.
      by
      the
      clock
      on
      the
      nightstand,
      and
      turning
      on
     
     
      the
      light
      caused
      Chris
      to
      blink
      a
      lot.
      He
      was
      about
      to
      go
      back
      to
     
     
      sleep
      when
      the
      scratching
      noise
      came
      again.
      :
     
    
   
   
    
     
      It
      was
      coming
      from
      the
      window.
     
    
   
   
    
     
      Chris
      peered
      out
      into
      the
      darkness
      beyond
      the
      window.
      Nothing
     
     
      was
      there.
      Z
     
    
   
   
    
     
      Suddenly
      it
      came,
      leaping
      out
      of
      the
      darkness
      and
      into
      the
      small
     
     
      patch
      of
      light
      streaming
      from
      Chris’s
      window.
      It
      was
      a
      large
     
     
      rabbit,
      jet-black
      in
      colour.
      Chris
      looked
      at
      it
      in
      wonder,
      admir-
     
     
      ing
      its
      glossy
      coat.
     
    
   
   
    
     
      Without
      warning,
      the
      rabbit
      charged,
      knocking
      the
      weak
      hinges
     
     
      ofthe
      window
      loose.
      Chris
      was
      unable
      to
      take
      his
      eyes
      from
      the
     
     
      horrific
      bunny.
      Most
      rabbits
      have
      pink
      or
      brown
      eyes,
      but
      this
     
     
      bunny’s
      eyes
      were
      as
      black
      and
      dead
      as
      coal.
      They
      fixed
      on
      Chris
     
     
      like
      he
      was
      the
      last
      piece
      cf
      lettuce
      in
      town.
     
    
   
   
    
     
      It
      opened
      its
      movth.
      Its
      teeth
      were
      brown
      and
      rotted,
      and
      its
     
     
      breath
      like
      the
      stench
      of
      a
      dead
      rat.
      Drooling,
      it
      hissed
      four
     
    
   
   
    
     
      words.
     
    
   
   
    
     
      “*Giivve
      meee
      the
      pictuurre...’’
     
    
   
   
    
     
      Terrified
      vy
      the
      sight
      of
      the
      lapin
      from
      hell,
      Chris
      pulled
      the
      =
     
    
   
   
    
     
      picture
      from
      his
      pocket
      and
      held
      it
      out.
      Faster
      than
      the
      eye
      could
     
    
   
   
    
     
      see,
      the
      rabbit
      snatched
      the
      paper
      in
      its
      teeth
      and
      vanished.
      It’
     
    
   
   
    
     
      left
      no
      tracks,
      no
      spoor,
      no
      sign
      that
      this
      late
      night
      confrontation
     
     
      had
      happened.
      ;
     
    
   
   
    
     
      Nothing
      but
      a
      small
      burnt
      dent
      in
      the
      wooden
      frame
      of
      the
     
     
      window
      where
      its
      saliva
      had
      dripped.
     
    
   
   
    
     
      So
      Satan
      taught
      Kenny
      and
      Chris
      a
      lesson
      after
      all.
      He
      taught
     
     
      them
      that
      he
      was
      a
      force
      not
      suitable
      for
      mockery,
      trivia,
      or
     
     
      casual
      discussion.
     
    
   
   
    
     
      And
      Chris
      and
      Kenny
      learned
      it
      so
      well
      that
      they
      went
      on
      to
     
     
      make
      a
      fortune
      writing
      cheap
      horror
      movies.
      _
     
    
   
   
    
     
      THEEND.
     
    
   
   
    
     
      Dave
      Stieb
     
    
   
   
    
     
      by
      Chris
     
    
   
   
    
     
      A
      strong
      Stieb
      slider
     
    

    
     
      Scowling,
      daring
      the
      hitter
     
    

    
     
      to
      catch
      up
      with
      his
      good
      stuff
     
     
      Talking
      to
      himself
      on
      the
      mound
     
    
   
   
    
     
      Ifa
      glare
      could
      kill
     
     
      for
      god’s
      sake
      if
      you’re
      a
      teammate
     
     
      of
      Stieb
      don’t
      make
      an
      error
     
    
   
   
    
     
      Hating
      it
      when
      the
      batter
     
     
      Steps
      out
      off
      the
      plate
     
     
      Stieb
      wants
      to
      control
     
    

    
     
      the
      pace,
      dare
      you
      not
      ruin
     
     
      his
      rhythm
     
    
   
   
    
     
      Known
      for
      near
      no
      hitters
     
     
      Known
      for
      tantrums
     
     
      Known
      for
      his
      7
      all
      star
      games
     
    
   
   
    
     
      Thru
      the
      eighties
      winning
      more
      games
      than
      anyone
     
     
      but
      Jack
      Morris
      :
     
    

    
     
      the
      World
      Series
      cries
     
    

    
     
      For
      the
      1
      -2
      punch
     
    

    
     
      of
      Stieb
      and
      Morris
     
    

    
     
      It
      is
      not
      to
      be
     
    

    
     
      and
      is
      a
      crime
      before
      us.