It’s not as if anyone got hurt, just the red-skinned devil. He ran into the crowd with his pitchfork and I jumped on him when everyone parted.

People should be thanking me, not screaming. The blood isn’t mine, it’s his; I don’t know why they look so concerned.

I don’t really want to go with the police; I have some friends to see. The nurse I meet is nice, though, and the room she puts me in is clean and comfy. The vitamin she gives me makes me feel a little sleepy. Maybe I’ll rest here for a little while.

[100 words, not including the (non-existent) title]