Thats when right in front of my face I find a man stone cold standing. Hes popping the scariest mask I ever saw except its no mask. Its a real life face. But a face that got grinded hard in Robbies supermilk blender. The nose looks like it got dissected and all the pieces taken out for science. One eye is staring up crazy at the moon. The skins got gobs a red and brown worms under it that arent actually worms, theyre the crookedest puffiest scars I ever saw. I know who it is all right. Its Deformo, the ugliest most frightening ass boogeyman bum that ever lived. The dozers finally chased his ass right to Robbies door.

* * *

Deformos mouth opens like hes gonna make a monster noise. Half his teeth are deep revolting holes and the top jaws way over here and the bottom jaws way over there and a river a drools pouring down so heavy his sweaties black with it. Takes me a second to read the sweatie. It says <KNIGHTS>.

* * *

Check it. I know, lots a people got <KNIGHTS> sweaties. But how many are in this bad a shape? Maybe he’s Deformo now but back when that sweatie was crisp he must a had a name like everybody else, a job too, and I have a feeling that job was Coach.

* * *

The mans not deformed at all. Hes disfigured and thats a different thing. I was real careful never to get too close to Deformo in the past but still dont know how I never theorized it. #69 Kyle Ketchum said Coach S lost everything the day of the Robbie beat down and right here in my grill is all thats left. Coach S turned into a thing that lives under a bridge and has a monster face and is ten times bonier than Dick Trickle because who wants to get close enough to a monster to give him a sandwich? Not me. Im standing right in front of him and I might fall down crying.

* * *

Coach S points into his spitty saliva mouth.

* * *

<Foo> he says but I know he means <Food>. He’s been begging for it for ten years.

* * *

Out a the window right above my frozen ass Robbies bed goes zing zing and the Mad Dog splatters onto the floor, or something that sounds like Mad Dog. Its real ominous and I dont like it filling up my earholes. I guess Im lucky cuz it gets drowned out by all the clocks still clocking and the ghosts still laughing and still doorbelling and the dozers still coming, still coming. The whole loud mess lifts around me a ice cold ocean that soothes the itch I been feeling my whole life. The clocks are a good omen after all. No doubt.

* * *