Posted: February 15, 2013 in Chawn


I am in the Isle of Wight, and I am standing by a mic. And I am ready.

I am ready to assassinate a little girl.

I am at Westbrook, the Isle of Wight youth camp me and Big Boots love. It’s totally different to my last camp. No competition. No rivalry. Just good times. I smile, as Westbrook-Crumpy Hammond tries to quieten the horde. He is ladel-less. And doesn’t look happy. He introduces us to Mug, who is lonely and lost around the camp and wants to be returned home to the kitchen. I smile. I hate mugs.

“And now I’m gonna pass it over to Mayesie for the next game.”

Mayesie. Westbrook’s very own Richard Moss. Only I know who I’d pick when there’s bears.

“Right then folks, you’re gonna love this!”

I smile. I love loving things.

“It’s quite a simple game…”

Classic. No competition. Just good times. We’re probably playing kick the can. I hate cans. Such mugs.

“… It’s called Assassins.”

Hang on…

“You take two pieces of paper…”

Oh wait, he’s probably just referencing John Mayer. After all, I’m here.

“One will have a person’s name on it…..”

Ah. Simple fun. No competition. Just good times.

“And you’ve got to kill them.”

I splutter. But have not been drinking anything, and look like I’m making out with a lemon. Big Boots is smiling. He loves killing. He’s going to go mad. And become a complete jerk. I watch as he dives into the pile of murder-bent children and pulls out some paper. “Here you go, Dan!” I open the slip. And see a name. “Have you got me?” asks Boottoxeter.


He stares at me. Watching my face. “Well who have you got then?” I show him. He smiles. “I’d love to kill him.”

I am concerned.

“See ya, Dan. I need to strategise!”

Hang on…

“You don’t have me, do you?”

He smiles.


I watch his face.

He definitely has a face. Oh no!He’s definitely going to kill me. I’m gonna have to get a few kills just so he won’t blaze me for not being him. I look at my target. And idea.

“Hi Drewett, knock knock.”

“Who’s there?”


“Cauliflower who?”

“You’re dead.” He looks at me. “Oh.” He is disheartened, and I feel bad, but Big Boots must not be allowed to beat me too badly. He’d go mental. Rampant. Drewett passes me his word. And his name. A name I know.

It is bedtime, and Big Boots is strategising. He says it’s too soon to kill people. They’ll expect it. I smile, and tell him I’ve worked out a brilliant way of killing Drewett.

“I’m gonna be like…. knock, knock.”


“No, no. Say it.”

He sighs.

“Who’s there?”


My body feels aflame.

“Squirrel who?”

“And then I’ll tell him he’s dead.”

“Oh. So his word is squirrel?”


I climb into bed, and things go quiet for a moment.



“I’m dead, aren’t I?”


“Oh no!”

Big Boots kicks his legs about. I smile. I beam, and do an evil laugh. And love it! This is how life was meant to be! Full of death! Big Boots gives me his name, and I go on a killing spree around Westbrook. I am… rampant.


I chuckle, and mock my fifth kill. She was rubbish, and should feel rubbish. I open her slip. And smile.

A little girl.

Easy. Like a Monday morning on a bank holiday when you can’t be bothered to do the cleaning so decide to watch the Bond film but realise that you really couldn’t care less about the not-Brosnans. I go over, and know what to do. I pull out the charm. I’m part-Italian, and I think people have started to notice.

“Hello there…!”

“Erm… Hi.”

I look away. I don’t even need to look at her to kill her. I’m so dominating.

“Knock, knock.”

“Oh no! You aren’t getting me like that!”

Huh. This stupid woman does not know the power of the Dan side! I walk away, and decide to strategise. And remember! I run the music in the bible talk bits! I am a leader. And a good leader knows how to use power!

I am ready. I am ready to assassinate a little girl. “We’re gonna start with a prayer. Repeat after me.” I start praying, a line at a time. I am about to kill… by proxy.

“Thank you God that we could come to Westbrook….. on the ferry… amen.”

I grin. And open my eyes. And hear a cry. A scream. But not a scream of death. Not the good kind of scream.

“I didn’t say it!”

Oh no! The camp mutters as people wonder why some random girl is quite so protest-y about a lighthearted prayer. I lean off the mic slightly and mutter. And decide to do what it takes. I decide to win.

“And the person with the most kills is….. Dan Mohr!”

I beam, and step forward to collect the prize, while mentally blazing everyone who isn’t me.

“Only we’ve heard a rumour that he swapped the one he couldn’t kill…..”

Hang on….

“So Dan’s been disqualified!”

Oh no!

Big Boots smiles, and leans towards me.

“Just good times.”


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