by Jules Archer Pawel Janiak In the horror movie, you are being chased by a man. Of course it’s a man, a man in a mask to hide his face, the cowardly devil. You see him coming over the hedge, fat and shaky like whale blubber and you wonder how he can catch you, but when he lands like a perfect-ten gymnast (because this is a horror movie) you take a last lick of your ice cream cone, say okay, fine, gutter-bomb it, run. As you run your sparkly girl-life flashes in front of your