I could hear them, outside the door. That horrid high-pitched squealing, and the slithering sound of their movement, like someone squeezing mud through a sock.
“Hell with this,” I snarled. “I am not going to sit here and die!”
“You saw what they did to Gerald. Oh, God, his face…”
“I don’t care. I have to do something.”
I picked up the can of hairspray and Gerald’s lighter. “I’ll see you later,” I told the gathered refugees.
I kicked open the door and spewed out flame. I heard their shrieks. That was how the end of the Marshmallow Peeps began.
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