A Washton New Year

Unlike most people, I wasn't too enthusiastic about the New Year's celebrations. To me, it was just God resetting his watch or whatever. I do look forward to the actual start of the new year, because it always provides a fresh start for everything. Academics, career opportunities, social life, you name it. Call me Scrooge, but I always thought that partying at midnight over a countdown was kind of a waste of energy and made you sleep in the next morning more than you have to. You know what I really hate? That when many people say that as soon as the new year begins, they're gonna cut back on junk and get into better shape, just to stop shortly afterwards; on the first day, and maybe even during the first week or two, they hold true to that promise, but eventually, it's right back to the burgers and pizzas. 
Ah, where the hell are my manners? My name is Douglas Thomas Washton, but feel free to call me Doug or Dougie. A native of Columbine, I'm a senior at CU School of Medicine, Class of '25. When I graduate this summer, I'm gonna shoot for my license. Being a doctor was one of my biggest dreams as a kid that still manifests itself in me today, though I've also had a knack for science and the environment. I spent a year working as an environmental scientist after graduating from regular CU, Class of '17, snatching my Bachelor's in physics. The organization I worked for, the Iris Company, was indeed very interesting, especially because of its focus on eyes, something I have taken a keen interest in for a while now. As much as I enjoyed the work, I decided to resign from Iris in 2018 when I turned 23, so I could enroll in medical school for a productive seven years until graduating at 30, which isn't far away now. 
So, seeing as we're about to start the year all over again, in a sense, I feel like now is a good time to explain some things that happened a while ago. Actually, more than a while ago. It all started back in '99, when I was four. I was only a toddler when I first heard about the tragedy at the "big kids' school," as my small self used to call it. Of course, I felt bad for all the victims, but at the same time, I couldn't help but feel a little sympathy for the perps too. Sure, what they did was pretty fucked up, but so was their backstory, and their motive was probably just as depressing as the event itself. 
As I grew older, I myself would get picked on in school. It bugged me, but thankfully I didn't respond to it with any 9mms or 12-gagues when I entered Columbine High myself. However, I did begin developing certain mindsets that if trusted adults wouldn't help me with my problems, then I should just handle it on my own. And that's what I did. If one kid threatened to jump me over some lunch money, I'd beat them to it (no pun intended). If they tried to set one of my prized possessions on fire, I'd do it to them using some supplies I'd borrow from my mother (she was a firefighter; emphasis on the "was," since she passed on four years ago from a hit-and-run). Sometimes, I'd even scare my tormentors by sneakily framing them for interference in their families' business organizations. I learned a thing or two about that sort of thing from my dad, who worked as a lobbyist and was also a Vietnam vet. For a while, these methods worked, much to my amusement.
But after a while, they started to wear off. As I entered my teens, my old tactics became more akin to child's play. I needed to get more creative, and I was very excited to put my potential to the test. In 2009, I turned fourteen and started my freshman year at Columbine. I quickly made friends with most of my classmates, while others were much more difficult to please. There was this one girl in particular named Madeline Ramirez. Despite her attractive appearance and the beautiful sound of her name, her personality was quite the opposite. When I first met her and tried to make small talk, she rudely ignored me. When I tried to make friends with her a second time, she rejected me very harshly, embarrassing me in front of her friends. From that moment forward, something inside me snapped, and any sign of innocent mischievousness I had when I was younger had completely vanished, replaced by a darkened spirit whose only goal was to carry out justice at virtually any cost. 
Madeline's attitude towards others, including myself, made me sick. Eventually, I had had enough, and one day, in the hall, she provoked me with one of her teasing remarks, and I lunged at her, attempting to push her down the stairs, only for it to backfire on me. Luckily, I escaped with a slightly dethatched knee that seemed to heal within a matter of days. They took my side of the story, and Madeline was suspended. Of course, anyone else would take pride in such a victory, but for me, it wasn't enough. Therefore, I found a much more subtle way to take care of her. When she came back from her suspension, I pretended to be apologetic towards her, and offered her a morning smoothie. She accepted it but still made a mocking remark to my face. I didn't let it bother me, because it would actually turn out to be her last; the next day, she was found dead in her room. Poisoning by elephant laxative, they said. 
Obviously, I never expressed it out loud to anyone since I'd risk arousing suspicion, but deep down, I was overjoyed when I first heard the news that Madeline was gone. It felt so relaxing to know that I'd never have to deal with that entitled princess bitch ever again. But of course, my savior's work had only just begun. Some time later, I invited a jerk named Peter Kopecky to my house. I had him follow me into the wooded area of my backyard, giving him the impression that I was gonna submit to him. The last thing he saw was a stake being thrown right at his chest by a figure. They found his body the next day. 
Next year, it was 2010, the start of a new decade. There was this super douchey chick named Cherrish Springr. What a name, huh? Must have been birthed on a worn-out mattress or something. I called her a sausage jockey based upon her utterly irritating pretentiousness that served no purpose in anyone's life. My friends supported me, but that Cherry asshole snitched on me to the principal, Mr. Higgins, who used to teach phonetics in London, if you can believe that. I tried to apologize as best I could, even though I was in the right, yet that prick gave me an after-school detention anyway. That was enough motivation for my "guardian angel" of sorts. I led her to the same wooded area in my backyard. Just like Peter, Cherry was met with a long, wooden stake. 
The year I became old enough to drive, I experienced another friendship rejection by Jessalyn Bougger. Her mother must have picked her nose while she was pregnant with her to give her such a last name. What's worse, though, was that she was a complete slut that tried to seduce others to get out of trouble. Talk about thou shall not commit sodomy, or whatever it is, am I right? Anyway, I figured that the only cure for her sinful behavior was a nice cup of iced tea, with a little hint of an inhibitor, which I asked a friend to make for her. To my delight, it worked like a charm, much like Madeline back in freshman year. 
Come 2012, when everyone thought the planet was gonna off itself, I found my next big bully: Jim Gordon. Sharing the same name as the police guy that works with the guy dressed like a nocturnal mammal, he bragged about it constantly, and we all dreaded every goddamned second of it. He was so committed to the role that he showed up to class every day dressed in a detective's uniform. And guess what? The son-of-a-bitch got away with it every fucking time. I feared that his antics were gonna cause a lot of unnecessary trouble, so I opted to put a stop to it before it even began. I called Jim out for being a dick and a sausage shark to get the heat going, getting him to attack me. The pain wasn't too bad compared to what my savior had for him: A nice and thick stick I found for them in the forest, which is where they took him for a walk, and that was the last anyone ever heard of his useless yapping. I even made friends with a much better Jim, this time with the cool-sounding surname Wallace. 
In 2013, I graduated from Columbine High and from childhood by turning 18. After that summer, when I had married my middle school girlfriend, Megan Fox, future travel agent for Montgomery Dominguez, I started my freshman year at CU. I tried out for the football team, but didn't make the cut. I joined the clique of brainy kids, as well as the clubs for Habitat for Humanity, agriculture, environment, foreign language, and sewing. I even rushed the Tau Kappa Epsilon fraternity, who welcomed me with open arms. I was having so much fun in the first few weeks that I almost completely forgot about my troubled past. But of course, the peace wouldn't last. 
Two of my rejectors that year were a viscous prick named Vernon, and jackass named Joshua Butkus. We'll get back to Vernon the ass hat in a minute. Joshua was a big jock who mocked me for not making the football team, ridiculing me every chance he got. He never got in trouble for his remarks, yet when I insulted him, I got reprimanded by the dean, Dr. Genovese. Thankfully, I got off with a warning, so I was able to carry out my next move. Deciding to give him a "present," I, along with a friend who was happening to follow me around, went to the woods right on the edge of campus, where I spotted Joshua chilling out. I made sure approach him from behind to keep his gift as a perfect surprise for when he turned around. Soon afterwards, his name was removed from the team's roster, since he had been found with a stake in his chest. I suspect that was the friend's doing, to which I thank very much. 
Now we've reached the "Ten Years Ago" mark; it was 2014, my last year as a teenager. My next "friend" was an Andrew Balls. His family had a lot of them to have that as a surname. Despite any humor, it didn't make up for Andy's philistine attitude. Thankfully, no one had to worry about becoming a victim towards his hostility, because he was found somewhere on campus strangled to death. Oh, and remember that Vernon fellow I mentioned? Someone scared him to death at his room door while dressed as an angry Karen, which definitely couldn't be me. Later, sometime after I got the great news that Megan was pregnant, I found myself being bothered by Parker Cortes. She really tried to shut me down from time to time, and I wouldn't have any of it. One day, I found her at a cliff, admiring a scenic view, which I also enjoyed watching. The next day, her body was found at the bottom on the cliffside, horrendously mangled. Poor Parker, she must have lost her footing.
2015 was a pretty decent year. No activity from that crazy killer. A shame though, for they almost succeeded but ultimately failed in bringing down another tormentor of mine, Lonnie Bacon. Oh well, I guess he'll just learn his lessons while still getting to keep his "innocent" little life, as much as he doesn't deserve it. They didn't get anyone in 2016 either, which I found to be such a shame, because I was really looking forward to seeing some supporters of that overly privileged bureaucrat (whose name is not worth mentioning) getting put in their place.
The killer's cooling period continued into 2017, when I had graduated from CU, started my new job, and when Megan had become pregnant again. A year later, when I was back at CU, this time in its School of Medicine, the four-year hiatus was broken when I discovered classmate Brooklyn Groper. Oh yeah, with that kind of last name, I would totally trust her around my kids. In all seriousness, she was just another entitled sloot that was just asking to get her ass handed to her. One day, she was feeling high and mighty about herself, and the next day, she was dead. Can you guess what they found lodged in her upper body? If your answer was a stake, you win a prize: An exclusive story about the fate of our next contestant, Karen Thrasher. 
Karen really did live up to her birth name, asking to see the manager at Starbucks, making a scene in Walmart, the whole package. Eventually, I became so fed up with her begging me to take notice of her, I decided to cave in. I came to her room one evening while she was taking a bath in her large tub that everyone else on campus would love to have and had a friend present her a generous offering of a brand-new quality toaster, on my behalf. Karen was happy to accept, but she should have known that water and electricity have never been on good speaking terms. I bet the police were wondering that when they found her fried corpse in the bathroom the next morning. 
2019 was another cooling year for the mysterious slayer. I actually didn't mind the break from the action, because I got to enjoy one last "normal" year before the outbreak that changed everything. The first half of 2020 for me was tragic not only because of the virus, but also because of the aforementioned loss of my mom. Thankfully, I got back into good spirits when I was blessed with four new foes. First, there was a snollygoster named Lubania Magar. At one point, she attacked me in the bathroom, smashing my kneecap. For my comeback, I took some shooting lessons at the range, and then went for a drive in my car. I drove past Lubania and gave a friendly wave hello. The next day, she was on the news; someone drove by and shot her dead. 
Then there was Claire Longfellow. She was all talk, claiming to be perfect and flawless. Thankfully, I had the evidence supporting other side of the story, whereas I exposed her on Insta via a meme or two. There was eventually another post on the platform, this one being a more gory shot of her laying dead, impaled on a stake, all with the entire post coming from the killer's account. A shame it had to be taken down, because I quite liked looking at their handywork. 
Next up was mouth-breather Briona Feingold. She reminded me of some of the bullies in Stranger Things, and I felt like Eleven being harassed at Hawkins every time I was around her. I got my chance to get away from her by taking a nice drive through the neighborhood. I was calmed after the drive, but even more excited to see Briona's name in the news as a victim of another drive-by. 
Finally, there was Oprah Cobbledick, a real puck bunny. I wasn't even that interested in hockey, and I still found her to be a pest, and so did my friends. Every time I tried to explain what I did know about the sport, she'd act all offended and cried victim. I took another drive as a chance to escape her whining, and it helped me relax. Much to my pleasure, I saw her on TV as the third victim of the spree of drive-by shootings. 
After that, the killer must have called it quits, because there hasn't been a single murder since then. I was disappointed that the thrill of the ride was over, but I didn't mind it all that much. I've spent the last four years focusing on my studies and working harder than ever before. This year, however, not everything has turned out so well. My dad is very sick, and I was short on cash to get him the help he needs. So, as a last resort, I started roaming the streets. I ended up finding some cars that belonged to some very crooked people, so I figured I'd take them for a spin and then sell them for a much better price than their filthy money paid for. My last pickup, a Nissan Murano, wasn't met with much success, as the owner jumped me into defeat. Unbothered, I sold the cars I managed to get by the end of may and was able to raise enough funds to pay for my dad's treatment. 
Fast forward months later, and here we are now, on this exciting New Year's Eve of 2024. This new year's gonna have a rocky start, no doubt, but I'm sure I'll be able to get through it all with my loving Megan, and my four wonderful studs of sons, the youngest being Jeffrey, being born earlier this year. I hold him in my arms, give him kisses, and even get a giggle or two out of him by booping his little nose. Overall, I'm looking forward to what '25 has in store for me, my family, and the world. I appreciate you taking the time to listen to my tale, and I hope you learn a good lesson or two from it. Now, before you go, do you have any more questions. 
Oh, there's news stories from May saying "CU med student killed in attempted carjacking"? Ah, don't worry about those. Fake news, as our future president says anyway. Anything else? 
Who was the killer of my bullies? Oh ho ho, buddy...
You're looking right at him. 
Category:Deletion Log Refugees
Category:Bad Creepypasta
Category:Pointless Violence
Category:That just raises more questions!
Category:English Class Failure