Short story I wrote a little while ago. // I have seen the Muffin Man. Worse, the muffin man has seen me. I pretend I haven't seen him and walk faster down the street, head turned away as if he simply didn't exist. After turning the corner and walking partway down the next street, I take a tentative glance behind me. He is there on the corner, a mangled silhouette against the dawning sun. Resigned, I turn to greet him, a disappointed sigh escaping me. While I had been thinking, The Muffin Man had caught up to me. His shambling gait brought him to me surprisingly fast. Before I knew it, he was right in front of me. Wham. I was on the floor, and he was dragging me by my feet. I was going in the muffin grinder, and I could do nothing to stop it.