You’ve Heard Of Zodiac, Bundy, And B.T.K. Now It’s Time You Heard About The Daylight Savings Time Killer.

He didn’t help my concerns when he rang my cell phone and asked him to get a drink as well.

Peter strode into the bar awkwardly when I returned with fresh drinks for both of us.

“Let’s finish these drinks and hit the street,” Peter started in. “Are you going to be warm enough?”

Peter looked my barely there outfit up and down.

“I’ve downed enough of these to where I should be good,” I jingled the ice in my drink at him.

“Good, I’ve seen a suspicious-looking old Dodge drive back and forth a few times,” Peter said with a weird sense of excitement in his throat.

“I have too, but there was definitely a woman driving it.”

“Oh.”

Peter went silent for a few moments and put his finger to his nose.
“Well I still say hit the streets. It’s a little past midnight, so it’s almost game time.”
I finished the rest of my drink in agreement. We hustled out to the sidewalk packed with Halloween-crazed college students and Peter slipped back to his car, leaving me alone.

Walking the streets didn’t do much for me. All I saw were college guys with glazed-over eyes and college girls falling down in the street and all I wanted to do was piss out the handful of drinks I had downed.

I texted Peter: Going to take a piss.

I saw a stairwell next to a campus building that looked out of sight of the street and sidewalk and headed down to relieve myself. The stairwell was long, about 20 steps, and ended at with a little sunken cement platform that fed into a door to the building.

Watching the steam rise up from my urine and feeling my entire body bathe in sweet relief couldn’t have felt better. I was actually a bit sad when I felt the stream start to come to an end.

Just as I was ready to finish, I was thrown to the icy ground in my own puddle of urine. It was hard to exactly determine what happened, but it felt as if someone had run up behind me and pushed me.

I panicked and scrambled to find something to protect myself with but realized I had nothing. Peter and I had ill prepared myself for defense. Where the fuck was Peter anyway? He had to see someone follow me down here.

I rolled over in my own waste and looked up the stairs to see the back of what looked to be a college kid in a Hulk Hogan costume running up the last of the stairs, laughing hysterically.

“Fuck you,” I screamed out at the young man who had vanished out of sight. “Fuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuck.”

I realized my phone was ringing when I finished screaming.

Jack has written professionally as a journalist, fiction writer, and ghost writer. For more information, visit his website.

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