Don't Fuck With Freddy

(Halloween contest entry 2026)

June 12, 1986

The Springwood High School senior prom was in full swing at Drumlins Country Club. A bunch of hormone-addled 18 year olds danced in a ballroom near the 18th hole, wiggling to the sleazy New Wave sound of "Addicted to Love" by Robert Palmer. The girls were dressed in vintage Cinderella style, and their tuxedoed boyfriends were looking forward to swinging their "9-irons" and scoring a "hole in one."

Their festive spirit was also therapeutic on a much deeper level; returning to normal one year after four Springwoodians were brutally murdered in their sleep, in their dreams, by the vengeful spirit of Freddy Krueger. (Or so a few "kooky" townspeople believed, with no tangible evidence of paranormal activity.)

"Might as well face it, you're addicted to love," snickered Joe Lawson, a hunky All-American quarterback who was more charming than "Broadway" Joe Namath.

"Just because I'm a cheerleading captain doesn't mean I'm a slut," giggled Dalla Nordgren, a perky blonde beauty queen. Like a cross between Christie Brinkley and Marilyn Monroe.

"You don't fool me, blondie. You're a wild mustang who loves playing the field . . . but I'll tame you like My Little Pony," Joe grunted, twirling her around in the middle of the dance floor. "I'm going all the way to the Super Bowl while you wave those pom-poms on the sidelines."

"Is that so?" Dalla grunted back, shaking her groove thing as DJ Rubik Diamond switched records to "Dancing on the Ceiling" by Lionel Richie. "You better put your balls where your mouth is."

"Damn, girl, I love your sassy attitude. Getting me so damn horny."

Oh, what a feee-liiiing, when we're dancing on the ceee-ling . . .

"Fuck this stupid prom shit. Let's get the hell outta here and get the real party started. I wanna drive my 6-wood on your 18th hole."

"Fuck yeah, Joey. I'm horny as hell, and we've rubbed our popularity in everyone's face quite enough."

Dalla giggled devilishly and took Joe by the hand, leading him out of the fancy country club and into a swanky stretch limo.

"Take me back to my apartment on Elm Street, pal," Joe beamed to the driver. They cruised downhill on Nottingham Road, a pair of starry-eyed barely legal fools on cloud nine. Joe french-kissed his head cheerleader deep and hard on the plush leather bench. Tongue wrestling that ditzy bitch like Hulk Hogan.

"Oh my god, you're such a good kisser," she uttered breathlessly.

"I'm good at a lot more than that, you hot Swedish meatball."

Joe squeezed her big tits through her frilly pink gown, making her squeal delightfully. The limo entered the heart of town, passing dozens of old Victorian houses along an abandoned canal. A naughty idea popped into his dirty mind.

"Hey driver, pull over and let us out here."

"But your apartment is still five blocks away," Dalla murmured confusedly.

"Yeah, but I wanna take a nice romantic stroll under the moonlight," he replied deviously. The driver let them out on the 5700 block of Elm Street, and they strolled beneath a long canopy of tall graceful elm trees.

"You're right, Mister Lawson. This is romantic," Dalla sighed, clutching his record-breaking biceps through a classy black tux.

"Remember this place, babe?" he said, pointing at 5703 Elm. A big blue house with a For Sale sign in front.

"Oh my god, yes. That's the house where Tina Grey and two other teenagers were hacked to death in their dreams . . . and for real . . . by Freddy Krueger!"

"Do you seriously believe that inbred redneck bullshit? The same kind of yokels who claim to see UFO's and fuckin' sasquatches."

"What other explanation can there possibly be?"

"There's plenty of drug-crazed looney tunes out there, ready to go on a killing spree at the drop of a hat."

"Maybe so, but there was no evidence of any break-ins, and the police never named a suspect."

"That psycho hobo was slick as a snake. There haven't been any more murders in Springwood for a whole year, so he probably drifted off to another town full of sexy daddy's girls."

"You're such a jerk, Joey," Dalla giggled.

"You can't get enough of my jerkness, Miss Prom Queen," Joey grunted. He kissed her on the neck above her ruffly taffeta dress. "Hey, I got a wild idea. Tina's family just moved out of this house, and I still have a front door key from when I was dating their other daughter Susan. Let's fuck in there!"

"Are you fucking serious, Joey?! Freddy's murder house, with all those . . . spirits?"

"Come on, it'll be a big thrill. You love watching stupid slasher flicks on late night cable. They always get you 'hot under the collar.'"

"Elvira, Mistress of The Dark gets you hotter under the collar,'" Dalla chortled. "All right, but you better not brag about it to your jock buddies. We could get in big trouble."

"My lips will be sealed . . . after you seal your lips around my cock."

He led her up to the creepy front porch and pulled his old girlfriend's key out of his fancy prom pants. No lights were on in the unoccupied house, but Dalla still knocked on the door with a playful grin.

"Knock-knock! Are you in here, Mister Krueger?"

"I'm here, there, and everywhere, bitch," Joey growled like a cliche slasher movie villain, waving his "razor fingers" menacingly at her like Freddy Krueger. He opened the door and stepped into the dark Victorian manor home. Dalla turned on a light switch, revealing an overdecorated living room.

"Wow, look at all this tacky 'staged' furniture," Dalla giggled. "The real estate agents are trying damn hard to make it look like a serial killer didn't splatter blood and gore all over this joint from beyond the grave."

"Hey, janitor Freddy . . . fuck you!" Joey sang with two extended middle fingers, to the tune of "Gee, Officer Krupke" from West Side Story.

"Fuck yeah. Go to hell, you psycho freak! Oh, wait . . . hell doesn't exist, and neither do you!" Dalla shouted gleefully.

"God, I love your dirty mouth. And your dirty everything," Joey murmured.

"Shut up and take off that 'classy' tuxedo, you sleazy womanizing quarterback."

"Take off that stupid Disney princess dress and get X-rated, like all your other cheerleader pals."

They took off their prom outfits as fast they could, hobbling around the room and bumping into the staged furniture. Dalla pulled off her skimpy pink panties and tossed them across the room, landing on a pile of records next to a player. She went over there and checked out the titles.

"Oh my god, I love The Thompson Twins!" she beamed. She selected their debut album and put a diamond needle on the black vinyl. Wiggling her naked heart-shaped ass to the moody synthesizer melody of "Hold Me Now."

"Hold my dick now!"

"Yes sir, Officer Lawson."

She dropped right on her knees on the plush staged carpet, grabbing his huge penis and shoving it deep in her mouth. Gagging right off the bat.

"Oooh fuuuck," he growled toward the crack-filled plaster ceiling. "That's a good QB sneak in the shotgun formation."

She giggled with a mouthful, without missing a beat. Twisting her head up and down the shaft, sucking hard, groaning and slurping noisily. She worked her clit with her free hand, the sense of danger thrilling her like never before.

I have a picture, pinned to my wall / An image of you and of me and we're laughing, we're loving it all / But look at our life now, all tattered and torn / We fuss and we fight and delight in the tears that we cry until dawn / Oh, oh, hold me now . . .

"Here comes a jet blitz, bitch!"

He grabbed her shiny blonde head with both hands and skullfucked her at full speed. Gagging that hot cheer cunt like a machine gun. He finally pulled out a minute later, and they both gasped with erotic exhilaration.

"I ain't cumming so soon, girly-girl. We're gonna make this haunted house party last."

"You better do the 'monster mash,' baby. Lick my sweet little pussy, like a real man."

Dalla got off her knees and hopped onto a big purple sofa. The kind of furniture that feigned "upscale" but was obviously a K-Mart blue light special. She lifted her lean athletic legs high in the air and spread them out in a wide V-shape, stroking her shaved butterfly vagina. Joe got it even wetter with his mouth, slobbering that sweet snatch disgustingly.

"Fuck yeah, Joey! Munch that carpet like Astroturf!"

Her football boy-toy growled with a mouthful of pink meat. He chomped right down on her throbbing clit, making her squeal in delight.

"Oh god, yes! Make it hurt so good, you Joe Montana wannabe!"

He nibbled her nub until she cried for mercy, then he spanked her ass nice and hard with both hands.

"You're a naughty little cheerleader, breaking and entering for sucking and fucking. I'm throwing your slutty ass in detention!"

"Yes sir, Principal Lawson. Spank me harder!"

WAASH! WAASH! WAASH! WAASH! WAASH! WAASH! WAASH!

"Damn, girl, you're a real glutton for punishment. The kind of bitch that Freddy loves to fuck around with . . . in your dreams!"

WAASH! WAASH! WAASH! WAASH! WAASH! WAASH! WAASH! WAASH! WAASH! WAASH!

"Shit, shit, shit, shit, shiiiiiit!" she wailed in masochistic ecstasy. "Hooo yeaaaah, you're such a good slasher!"

"I don't have a leather glove like Krueger with eight sharp knives . . . but I got one big love blade."

"Fucking stab with me that big dick, boy!"

"Patience, my pet. Let's take our little soiree upstairs, and see where the evening takes us."

Dalla giggled at his loverboy wit. Joe scooped her right off the couch with his burly arms, making her giggle louder. He carried her up an old creaky flight of stairs, with the full moon sending creepy shadows through the elm branches and a palladian window. The kind of spooky stairway seen in every single slasher movie since Michael Myer's bloody debut during the disco era. Establishing a sense of danger which the barely legal teen horndogs are oblivious to.

One of the steps was much creakier than the other. They didn't know that was the step Freddy Krueger landed on after falling over a second floor railing, after Nancy Thompson lured him out of the dream world and into the real world for a climactic showdown.

"You better carry me up the stairs just like this on our wedding night," Dalla beamed.

"As you wish, Princess Dalla. We'll pretend we're a bunch of innocent virgins on our wedding day, and our clueless conservative families will totally fall for it. Hook, line and sinker."

Joe carried her across the threshold, then he tossed her naked cheerleader body onto the bed where Tina had all those horrible nightmares about a janitor with a burned-up face. Dalla got on all fours on the lumpy mattress, wiggling her amazing ass in his direction while Joe went over to a cassette player and popped in a Slayer album. Reign in Blood.

"Fuck me like a poodle, mon cheri," she murmured seductively.

"A slutty cheerleader who talks all fancy-Frenchie?"

"I flunked out of Miss Bergaud's class, so 'mon cheri' is pretty much all I know," she giggled, wiggling her ass a little wider.

"Oui-oui, baguette, croissant, ooh-la-la!"

Joe jumped on the bed and slammed his big blue chip cock up her tight wet cheer pussy.

"Ooooh yeaaaah, just like that! Fast and hard, just the way I like it!"

That ripped quarterback ravaged his dumb blonde girlfriend like a roid-raging Pro Bowler. His rock hard thighs bounced off her soft bubble butt in a loud steady pash-pash-pash-pash-pash rhythm.

Modulistic terror, a vast sadistic feast / The only way to exit is going piece by piece /

You have no choice of life or death, my face you will not see / I'll rip your flesh till there's no breath, dismembered destiny . . .

"You're the slutty blonde of my dreams, bitch. I'm fucking you harder than Krueger!"

"That creepy janitor couldn't get laid. That's why he was a creep," she giggled as her big drooping boobs swung like udders.

"Fuck you, Freddy! Boogeymen never get good pussy."

Joe kept slamming his big manly rod deep in her All-American cheer bod. Spanking her ass harder with both hands, making her moan and groan like hell. She climaxed three times over five minutes, squirting all over Tina's cute Rainbow Brite bedsheets. It was the best sex she ever had . . . but she knew she'd get much better action when she reached the NFL sidelines.

"Get your ass down on the bed, you naughty jock. I wanna ride you like a Dallas Cowgirl."

"I reckon you do, missy," Joe chortled in a mock Texas accent. He pulled out of her poodle pose and flopped face-up on the mattress, with his eight inch hammer pointing toward the white plaster ceiling which still showed the tape marks from Tina's poster of teen heartthrob Corey Haim. Dalla straddled his beefy legs and slid his prodigious penis all the way up her throbbing vagina. Bobbing slowly up and down, gently thrusting her hips forward to hit her g-spot.

"Time for a slow dance, baby-doll," she cooed romantically. "Savoring the fairy tale vibes on our magical prom night."

"Fuck that gay Cinderella shit. I'm a thrash metal headbanger, like fuckin' Slayer!"

He grabbed her ass, holding it up four inches above his lap while fucking her fast and hard. Jiggling her big tits, making her squeal even louder.

"Oh god damn, don't fucking stop! Slay my pussy like a dragon, Prince Charming."

"I wanna live between your legs, you hot fucking witch!"

Altar of sacrifice, curse of the damned / Confronting the evil you dread / Coalesce into one your shadow and soul, soon you will meet the undead . . .

"Make me cum again with your long manly sword. Oh shit, oh shit, boom-boom-boom-boom-boooooom!"

She squirted even more on his six-pack abs as he kept pounding away to Slayer's relentless metallic rhythm. They both worked up a heavy sweat with the intense sexual workout. He finally pulled out and stood up in the middle of Tina's Rainbow Brite bed, stroking his huge jock stick.

"Are you gonna cum for me, cowboy?"

"Fuck yeah. Get your face right here, blondie."

She quickly assumed her usual finishing pose, staring right down the barrel of his gun. He grabbed her golden hair with his strong left hand, yanking her head back while jerking frantically with his right hand. Ten seconds later, he roared savagely and blasted her big blue eyes with hot thick splooge.

"Oooooh yeaaaaah," Dalla groaned dreamily. "A nice big money shot. You're going all the way to the hall of fame, Broadway Joe."

"Fucking right, bitch!" Joe growled ecstatically. She fingered every drop into her mouth and swished it around on her tongue, working it up to a frothy white paste.

"Fuck yeah, you naughty cheerleader. Play with your dessert."

She swished it around some more, then she gargled it loudly and spit out the frothy mess all over her big pale tits.

"God damn, Miss Nordgren. You're a real freaky Swede, just like your mother."

"That crazy country is full of perverts. You wouldn't believe how much public sex happens in Sweden, just like I am Curious Yellow."

"I am curious too. We should catch a flight to Stockholm and have a hot tub gangbang at a ski resort."

"The only guy banging me will be you. No creepy hockey-loving gangs around."

Dalla sighed dreamily, sinking down on the bed where Tina was hacked to death by ectoplasmic blades. Resting her head on her boyfriend's ripped sweaty chest.

"I love you sooo much, Prince Charming."

"Right back 'atcha, Cinderella," Joe cooed in a heavy endorphin afterglow, sliding his fingers through her soft spun-gold bangs.

* * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * *

Next thing she knew, she was riding in a horse-drawn carriage through a dark creepy forest with a giant fairy tale castle on the horizon. Wearing that same pink prom gown.

"Faster, driver. Faster! I have to get to the royal ball before midnight," she shouted to the driver.

"Yes ma'am, Cinderella. I'll get you to your soulmate Prince Charming before this thing turns back into a pumpkin."

The dream got fuzzy for a moment, but Dalla still didn't realize it was a dream. Now she was racing up the steps of the grand medieval castle. She burst through the heavy wooden door and saw a hundred people in fancy medieval costumes, dancing New Wave-style to "The Safety Dance" by Men Without Hats (because she avoided classical music like the plague.)

We can dance if we want to, we can leave your friends behind / 'Cause your friends don't dance, and if they don't dance, well they're no friends of mine . . .

She looked above the swirling mass of moshing horny teenage ballgoers, seeing the cute Men Without Hats band members playing their 1980's instruments while wearing old French troubadour costumes. At the top of a grand stairway, Prince Charming sat on a gleaming gold and velvet chair. He looked just like her boyfriend Joe Lawson, decked out in a cliche royal fairy tale outfit. She looked down at the bottom of her full-length gown and saw a glass slipper on only her right foot. (The plotline of that iconic Disney movie was firmly etched onto her subconscious.)

"Prince Charming! Prince Charming! Please let me try on that glass slipper from last night!"

"Certainly, you lovely lady. Come right up!" he shouted above the synth-pop racket. She raced up the stairway, grabbed the other slipper from his outstretched hand, and slid it onto her dainty left foot.

"A perfect fit!" Prince Charming/Joe Lawson beamed. "Come now, Princess Cinderella. Let us celebrate our star-crossed love by dancing the night away with all the townspeople!"

He led "Cinderella" down the plush carpeted steps and into the writhing mass of Dark Ages humanity. Dancing just like she did with Joe in real life, two nights ago at the Tryanglz night club on the outskirts of Springwood. Highly suggestive MTV-style moves which would have gotten her arrested and burned at the stake in 1586. She felt so joyous and liberated with the man of her dreams, knowing they would live happily ever after.

A minute later, Men Without Hats suddenly stopped playing, and a spooky vibe suddenly filled the royal ballroom. The dancers parted abruptly down the middle of the ballroom floor, making way for three little girls in modern white dresses. Two of them swung a jump rope while the third hopped underneath, just like the young schoolgirls that Dalla always saw on playgrounds in Springwood. They all sang a creepy schoolyard ditty that reverberated off the the thick stone walls of the castle:

One, two, Freddy's coming for you

Three, four, better lock your door

Five, six, grab your crucifix

Seven, eight, gonna stay up late

Nine, ten, never sleep again . . .

Their singing got more distorted, and the ornately decorated walls got blurry. Deep evil-sounding male laughter rang out from high above, making her shudder with unexplainable fear. Turning around, she saw a forty year old man with a hideously burned face, wearing a red-and-green striped Shakespearean court jester outfit with a matching floppy belled cap and a pair of leather gloves with eight razor blades jutting off the fingers. She immediately recognized him from drawings that were published in the Springwood Gazette last year, drawn by Nancy Thompson after she was nearly killed in her dreams by . . .

"Holy shit, are you . . . Freddy Krueger?"

"That's my name, bitch. Don't wear it out!" he replied mockingly, imitating Pee-Wee Herman with goofy court jester dancing. Waving his finger blades mockingly while hopping like a monkey.

"I'm your court jester, Princess Nordgren. But we all know that you're the foolish one."

All the other ballgoers just stood there staring at her with oddly blank expressions. Freddy crept closer to her and raised his finger blades menacingly, like a tabby cat toward a mouse. Dalla wanted to run, but terror froze her on the spot. She turned her head toward her "Prince Charming" to see his reaction to Krueger . . . but Joe was gone! Disappeared into thin air.

"What the hell? What happened to Joe?!"

"Your hunky quarterback 'lover' has abandoned you. Lured away by a prettier face and a bigger pair of bazooms," Freddy cackled evilly.

"You're lying! Just like you lied to Tina, and your other victims. You're a fucked-up psycho monster!"

"My-my, Princess. What a dirty mouth you have."

It suddenly got colder in the ballroom. Dalla glanced downward and realized that she was now completely naked (just like she concurrently was on Tina's old bed, lying next to her slumbering boyfriend.)

"Public nudity, Dalla? Naughty-naughty. Like a slutty perverted Lady Godiva."

"Leave me alone, Freddy. Leave me the fuck alone!"

"I'm gonna punish you, Princess," he growled. "Just like your daddy should have."

Freddy lunged toward her with finger blades outstretched, and she screamed in horror. Breaking out of paralysis and running up the grand stairway, with that evil fire-roasted janitor trailing twenty feet behind.

"Somebody help me!" she wailed at the top of the steps, looking down at the oddly silent crowd on the dance floor. "I order you to help me, my royal subjects!"

"Those backwater hicks never really helped you at all," Freddy cackled. He chased her down a long hall of mirrors, exactly like the one at the Versailles palace in France. Her big tits bounced wildly as she hustled along a royal purple carpet. She glanced at her nude reflection on dozens of tall gold-framed glass panes, along with reflections of freaky Freddy.

"Vanity of vanities, saith the preacher. All is vanity," Krueger uttered in a mock televangelist tone. "Girls like you gain nothing by screwing around like goddamn harlots."

"This is just a dream, Dalla. He's not real, so just wake up. Wake the fuck up!"

"I'm more 'real' than you are, you superficial cocksucking cheerleader," Freddy snarled in hot pursuit. Dalla tripped over a snag in the luxurious purple carpeting and crashed right into one of the big mirrors. Shattering it into hundreds of pieces and falling down a deep murky rabbit hole like Alice in Wonderland. Landing on cold hard stone, but not losing consciousness.

Glancing around, she determined that she was in the lowest level of the castle, still naked. A narrow dank winding stone corridor, dimly lit by torches on wall sconces. There was no cave shaft rising above her, and Freddy was nowhere in sight. The corridor was eerily silent. She slowly moved along the curving stone passage, making dozens of bats and rats scurry for cover. Expecting to meet her bloody doom at any moment, praying for salvation from a god she never really believed in.

"Trapping me in a maze like a mouse, eh Freddy? God, I can't stand your twisted mind. Please, Dalla, wake the fuck up!"

She pinched her naked body over and over, but it was no use. She was firmly under his hypnotic spell, like a marionette doll in a hellish interdimensional puppet show. A minute later, she could hear the muffled sound of a man shouting in the distance. It sounded sort of like . . .

"Joey! Oh my god, where are you Joey?!"

"I'm in the dungeon, Dalla! Please, help me!"

Dalla groaned with fresh terror, running like hell toward the sound of her beloved blue chip QB boy-toy.

"Don't you dare hurt my quarterback, Krueger! His arm's gonna make me a millionaire!"

Joe's screaming gradually got louder, and the cold dank stone of the subterranean corridor gradually changed to cold dank metal. She realized she was no longer in the basement of a grand medieval castle in 1586. She was now in the dimly lit basement of Robert E. Lee Elementary school in Springwood, surrounded by dripping pipes and hissing radiator pumps. Her bare feet clattered against a rickety catwalk above a big rusty boiler tank that was installed during the Great Depression.

Dalla now recalled the backstory of "Janitor Freddy" that she'd often heard from friends after those brutal murders last year. How Krueger was charged with molesting and killing twenty schoolkids in the basement of this school, but then he got off on a technicality because one of the cops forgot to sign a search warrant. The parents of the victims took justice into their own hands; burning Freddy alive like a medieval mob with torches and pitchforks. But then his satanic spirit sought revenge by killing the teenage children of those parents through their dreams.

"Hurry, Dalla!" Joe screamed from the other side of the creaky boiler. "Freddy's coming toward me!"

"Oh my god!" she shrieked, hustling down a rickety metal staircase. "Stay the hell away from him, you bastard!"

She ran through another maze of rusty metal with dripping hissing absestos-lined pipes. A minute later, she finally reached a dead end at a locked door made of metal bars and chain-link fencing. Looking through the metal loops, she saw her naked boyfriend chained up like a royal prisoner against a wall twenty feet away. Freddy Krueger creeped toward Joe with outstretched finger blades, making him whimper pathetically. Freddy was no longer dressed like a court jester. He now wore a red-and-green striped rugby shirt with brown pants and a brown 1960's-style fedora hat, just like in Nancy's drawings from the Springwood Gazette.

"Help me, Dalla! This psycho pedo's off his fucking rocker!"

She banged helplessly on the locker door, watching Freddy creep closer and closer.

"Stay the fuck away from him, Krueger!" she roared.

Freddy paused with his blades just inches away from Joe's face, turning toward her with another evil grin.

"Your precious 'King' deserves to die, Princess Nordgren. This jock douchebag bullied many grade school serfs, stealing their lunch money and calling them names, scarring them for life. Time for a little vigilante justice, just like your parents did to me . . . making me look like this. Ashes to ashes, an eye for eye!"

Freddy slammed two of his finger blades forward, stabbing through Joe's eyeballs and right into his brain.

"Noooooooooo! God damn you, Krueger!" she wailed as Joe's body went limp, bleeding profusely through his now-empty eye sockets (in his dream and in Tina's old room on Elm Street, as her naked body thrashed about next to him on the bed. Stuck in a helpless homicidal nightmare.) Freddy laughed in devilish triumph in his dreamland basement, turning around and walking slowly toward her.

"And now, Your Highness . . . the executioner's axe is aiming toward your neck."

"Please, no! I'm innocent, Freddy!" she moaned helplessly, walking slowly backward along the greasy concrete basement floor.

"Innocent my ass," he growled viciously. "You bullied just as many teen bitches, and then you hid behind that 'perfect' Miss Congeniality facade. Torturing those girls and their families. Your momma ruined my family by pouring that gas and lighting that match."

"You ruined your family long before that, by abusing and murdering all those little kids down here. You're a goddamn fool!"

"Shut the fuck up! You're just as foolish as me. Time to pay the piper, Princess."

Dalla watched in horror as Freddy's spirit-body morphed right through that locked chain-link door.

"Oh shiiit!" she wailed in exasperation. She turned around and ran like hell, with Freddy chasing her close behind with that same odd shuffle-steps he made in the upper reaches of the castle. Turning more corners in the dimly lit basement, she soon realized she was trapped in an endless steamy metallic maze. Freddy kept cackling twenty feet behind her, like a cat who knew he had a rat cornered. Savoring the hunt as long as possible.

The oily catwalk got slicker and slicker, until Dalla could barely stay on her feet. Sinking down helplessly on all fours in a black disgusting mess. More crude oil dripped down from the ceiling of Robert E. Lee elementary school, making her look like the Tar Baby from the Uncle Remus picture book she loved reading when she was little.

"You're in a real sticky situation, eh Princess Nordgren?" Krueger cackled. "All lubed up, just like your jock boyfriend loves it. Or loved it, I should say."

"Please, Freddy! Let me go! I promise I won't bully any more people."

"Bullshit! You'll just keep breaking hearts left and right. It's really hard for vapid beauty queens like you to see the . . . light."

Flames suddenly shot out of Freddy's finger blades.

"Oh god, nooo! Wake up, Dalla! Wake up wake up wake uuuuup!"

"Say your prayers, Princess. There's no atheists in a foxhole," Krueger remarked devilishly. He lowered his flaming blades, igniting the oily floor. The flames raced away from him and toward Dalla. She screamed even louder as her life flashed before her eyes, trapped in a macabre nightmare.

The flames quickly reached her body in the dream and in Tina's old bedroom. She screamed in agony and made one last desperate lunge away from Krueger, vaulting over the edge of the catwalk. Landing twenty feet down on a metal pole, piercing right through her heart. At the same time, her flaming body vaulted out of Tina's old bed and crashed through the bedroom window, falling twenty feet onto another metal pole. Impaling her right through the heart, ending a life full of great potential.

Krueger laughed maniacally toward her burning body. He finally got his revenge on Elsa and Stieg Nordgren, fighting fire with fire.

"Don't fuck with Freddy, bitch!"