Kristy inspired me to plan my own escape route through my alma mater. If a cult of  mask-wearing, hood-popping psychopaths ever tries to hunt me down while I’m campus for some inexplicable reason, I know where to hide. In the library, second floor, in the children’s section that’s always empty save for that one creepy guy in the corner.

Don’t tell the mask-wearing, hood-popping psychopaths I told you that.

Here’s a poem.

kristy

To me, you’re all sheep,
Born covered in soft, warm wool.

I’ll just grab my shears.

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