Escape From Happydale

by Jack Quaid

“He ran off with my wife and stole my Cadillac. I didn’t care too much about the wife, but that Caddy, that was a good vehicle.”

A great big machete slammed through the door, and straight after that, it slammed through Patrick’s back then out of his chest. A bead of blood dripped off the tip of the blade and onto the cheap vinyl floor. “Oh my,” Nancy said. “That’s not good.”

It was time to get the hell out of there, but no matter how hard she tried, the car was as dead as disco.

Beheading sons of bitches was the family business, and by all accounts, business was good.

Delores McCormick needed an apprentice, and the recently orphaned Parker Ames was the perfect candidate.

Billy, who was only a little boy at the time, watched his parents get dismembered while the radio played the Christmas carol ‘Do You Hear What I Hear?’”

“He’s a slasher, sweetheart,” McCormick said as she slid a machete from the bench and held it in her hand. “And with a slasher, you either take the head, or you go home.”

In the history of reading aloud from a demonic book, no good has every come from it.

For a moment, Ellis thought that he had smoked too much of the wacky tobacco and imagined the whole thing.

Lone Pine Mall

One thing was for sure: nobody called him the little ice cream man again.

He was a good kid. Dumb as shit, but his heart was in the right place.

one count of murder.” They both looked over at Parker. She shrugged. “It wasn’t me?”

“It’s all fun and games until somebody loses their head.”

Then out of nowhere, something flew through the window, sending glass all over the place and scaring the shit out of everybody.

She gave a shy wave. “This is awkward.”

Hurricane grabbed hold of Grady’s leg and ripped it clean off his body. Clean. Off. His. Body.

Jenko wasn’t convinced. “I think I’ll keep the boomstick.”