“Later, dawg,” Tim said as finished his conversation with Tony. Flipping his cell phone shut, he placed it in the front pocket of the black overalls he was wearing as part of his costume and decided to play some music on his drive home.

Glancing down at his CD player while he was driving, Tim selected Dr. Dre’s “Murder Ink” as his white Pontiac Sunfire approached a stop sign. However, while doing that, he took his eyes off the road for one split second, causing his car to slowly drift into the oncoming lane.

A moment later, a loud horn caused him to look up out of his daze, and all he saw was a beat up old black Camaro headed straight for him. Tim laid on his horn as well, and quickly swerved back to his lane, narrowly avoiding an accident.

“Watch where the fuck you’re going, dickhead!” Tim shouted, sticking his middle finger in the air with half his body nearly out the driver’s side window. The black Camaro squealed to a stop in the middle of the road not far past Tim, its red brake lights reflecting off of his rearview mirror.

“Oh shit,” Tim mumbled, fearing the worst as his heart began to race. An instant later, the brake lights disappeared, and the black Camaro kept on going in the opposite direction. “That’s right, keep on going, motherfucker,” Tim snarled, watching the Camaro disappear in his rearview before turning his attention back to the road.

However, what Tim didn’t notice was that about a half mile back up the road, the black Camaro, driven by Michael Myers, did a slow u-turn and began to follow him.


By the time Tim got home, nightfall had already begun to set in. Hurrying, he brought his Sunfire to a screeching halt inside his parents’ garage. Luckily for him, there was no one home or he would have surely gotten reamed out by his mom for driving so recklessly again.

As he got out of his car, he didn’t take notice of the black Camaro parked not far from his house. He was also still unaware of Michael’s presence, even as the shape walked slowly along the hedges in Tim’s front yard.

Inside the garage, Tim removed his new costume and threw it onto a nearby lawn chair. “That costume is the shit yo,” Tim exclaimed to himself as he proudly looked down at the black overalls and pale-faced Michael Myers mask.

Sensing the darkness that was fast setting in, Tim decided to run inside and grab a basketball to shoot some hoops in the driveway before all the daylight was gone. So, after taking one more approving glance at his costume, he went to press the automatic garage door button to close the door.

He was just about to enter the house when suddenly a loud cracking and creaking sound came from the garage door as it neared the ground.

“What in the hell was that?” Tim asked aloud, startled by the noise as he turned around to check.

He quickly hit the open button as the noise wouldn’t stop, and then he saw the reason why. Leaning up against the side of the wall was a steel rake preventing the garage door from closing. Unable to stop the door, smoke began to bellow out of the motor at the top of the garage ceiling.

“Who the fuck did this! I’m bout to fuck someone up for real!” Tim shouted at the top of his lungs out into the cool, gray evening air.

Frantically looking around, Tim thought he might see someone running away from the driveway or hiding, but he found no one. Further infuriated, he grabbed the steel rake and ran out into the driveway, looking around the side of the house. There, he noticed some branches moving, and darted for that area still screaming profanity.

As he approached the bushes, Michael Myers, who was on the opposite end of the house, snuck into the garage behind him.

Tim was just about to dive into the bush, when it moved again and a rabbit jumped out from underneath it, nearly giving him a heart attack.

“God damn rabbit!” Tim yelled as he picked up a nearby rock and threw it toward the bunny, not even coming close to hitting it.

As he stared in disgust, the rabbit went out of sight, and that’s when he noticed his garage door closing again.

“Oh shit!” Tim gasped, now more afraid than angry.

He thought about calling the cops, but that would have been a pussy thing to do. And besides, if he did, Tony and his boys would never let him live that one down. Ever.

So, scratching that idea from his head, he ran to the now closed garage door and started pounding on it while in his chest, his heart pounded just as hard.

I can’t let this dude know I’m afraid, Tim thought to himself as he yelled even louder, hoping at least one of his dickhead neighbors would hear the commotion and come outside to investigate.

None did.

He was about to go to his front door and confront the burglar inside the house when the garage door started to open once again, slowly rising from the ground.

Standing back, Tim held the steel rake in his hands like a baseball bat, ready to swing it at whoever the fuck had broken into his house. He carefully watched as the door slowly rose, revealing first a pair of black boots, then a familiar set of black coveralls. Standing there not moving was Michael Myers, now fully dressed in Tim’s black overalls and white mask, staring at him with dark, emotionless eyes.

“Oh hell naw, you ain’t stealing my costume, bitch!” Tim shouted, not once thinking that it might actually be the real Michael Myers.

Michael didn’t respond. In fact, he never even flinched.

“Aight then, you’ll see what’s up,” Tim said as he quickly swung the rake at the shape.

Myers moved swiftly out of the way as the steel head crashed down onto the trunk of Tim’s precious car, scratching some paint off of it.

“Fuck!” was all Tim could say as he stared at the damage momentarily.

Pissed off, he turned quickly and swung the rake again, but this time, instead of moving, Michael caught the rake by its wooden handle and tore it from Tim’s grasp with ease.

Wide-eyed, Tim backpedaled with fear as he fell on the cold concrete of his garage.

Tim started to say “nooo!” but never got to finish the word, as Michael brought the rake down with great force, its teeth splitting open Tim’s head. Then, with blood gushing everywhere, Michael yanked downward, ripping off Tim’s scalp and half his face in the process.

The Shape then closed the garage door one final time as if nothing happened, concealing his kill as he lurked back off into the cool, dark Haddonfield night.

Proceed To Chapter 13
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