The Pit

Jerald scrambled through underbrush, overbrush, and leftsidebrush, always making for the distant patch of open sky through the snake-like trees. He could feel the pounding feet behind him and the breathing on his back; the ax-man's breath smelled like tuna for some reason.

And then, quite suddenly, out of the blue, and abruptly too, there appeared a giant pit in the ground of all places. Jerald teetered on the edge, his arms windmilling, and his cry echoing through the merciless woods. But as he spun wildly on a single toe over the yawning burrow of some monstrous monster with a monster-like appearance, he saw the ax-man only steps away, his ax in mid-swing, and his teeth clenched in anger.

At the last second, without a moment to lose, and in the nick of time, Jerald let himself fall into the hungry cave below, narrowly missing the swing of the ax.

He hit the dirt on the slope below and tumbled down into the entrance of the lair. Instantly, the smell of rotting flesh overwhelmed his sense, and he was reminded of grandma's cooking. He almost vomited, and as he clawed at the ground for a better purchase so that he would not slide further into the pit, his hands dug up a bone.

Screaming, like a baby, he threw the bone aside. He did not wish to meet the same fate as that bone. Poor bone. And then he looked back up to the fading light of day. I thought it was night?

The ax-murdered was staring down at him with dead eyes, his ax hefted at ease between his hairy fists, and a twisted grin across his face.

"I'll get the scraps," he said.

And then there was a sudden 'whack' as Simpsonkins swung his tray like a housewife with a vengeance, and a lump rose two inches on the ax-murderer's head as he fell over into the pit.

"You'll be the scraps," commented the butler, his tongue darting over his lips.

Jerald watched the body fall toward him, and he yelled as the ax came swinging for his head. But he was saved at the last second by a root that he just managed to grab ahold of to pull himself out of harms way. The ax-murdered tumbled on by and into the cave. There was a single scream, and a deathly roar, and a few bones were chucked up from below.

"That's the end of him," murmured Jerald. "And it'll be the end of me too, if I cannot get out of this pit soon enough!"

Oh dear, poor Jerald was like a damsel in distress. Who would save him now?

The End

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