"Hi, I'm Mr. King, and welcome to Section Thirteen of Creative Writing." I had seen him before. He was at my strip club, and I was his chosen V.I.P dancer. That was not the only time I had seen him. He had been wearing a mask years ago, as he shot and killed my father in front of my eyes, and left me to watch him gurgle to death. It was him, I'm sure it was. But why was he back?