I’m a woodsy guy. Look, I stick out, like a grizzly in a daycare center. Just how you’d expect me. Big, tattooed, dark clothed, the obligatory beard, the hunting knife, the observing. You call it lurking, I know.
I’m different.
People are dumb like sheep, but they can tell for once. They jump, as I appear on street corners, in front of their doors, beside their cars, in their bedrooms.
They scream.
I give them reason to.

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