William’s mother knew he was terrified, but she made him go anyway. Maybe because she dreamed daily of his future graduation. Maybe because her boss, Mr. Toupe, said she could find a new fucking job if she was ever one fucking minute late again. Maybe she was just too tired from her fifth double-shift to give a shit.

As William stepped onto the playground, his stomach twisting into knots, he spotted Mitch. There was no avoiding him. Mitch the Monkey, or Mitch the Mountain, was enormous. He towered over the other second graders, covering them in his dark lumpy shadow.

“Get over here, Willie! Today you die.”

The mountain called Monkey had spoken.

He rumbled toward William, his footsteps like thunder against the pavement. Clenching fat fingers into ham-like fists, he roared, “Fight runt.”

William shuddered. Monkey lurched forward. William lashed out blindly, connecting.

And then came a sound. Distant first, it grew into castrophany so immense it could be heard far away in space.

And then, nothing.