ziggy455
Das it, mane.
NAME: RORKE JONES
He sat in front of the campfire, listening to the muffled radio playing whatever kids listened to these days. Damn kids. No matter where he went, he was always surrounded by people, and that's the last thing he felt he'd ever need. Twigs snapped far off in the woods, but he ignored it. There was nothing out here but old ghosts and horny kids. I'm hungry. He hadn't eaten for a whole day. It was like animals avoided Camp Crystal Lake--like they knew something was here. He'd move on in the morning.
He sat in front of the campfire, listening to the muffled radio playing whatever kids listened to these days. Damn kids. No matter where he went, he was always surrounded by people, and that's the last thing he felt he'd ever need. Twigs snapped far off in the woods, but he ignored it. There was nothing out here but old ghosts and horny kids. I'm hungry. He hadn't eaten for a whole day. It was like animals avoided Camp Crystal Lake--like they knew something was here. He'd move on in the morning.