Mr. Sandman

Bogmire looked around until he found a door.

It looked like a little girl's room allright and as matter of fact there on the bed sleeping like a little angel was a blond hair little girl. She couldn't be any older then seven or eight.

This should be easy. Bogmire laughed to himself.

Bogmire walked over to the little girl and leaned over her.

He didn't want to hurt her. He may be a ghost from hell but he had a soft spot for children. He played with many of them in heaven. As a matter of fact they were the first to accept him. Ah the many hours they played...chasing stars...playing hide of seek in the clouds. Playing with all the animals. It was wonderful.

But he did have a job to do.

Bogmire leaned over her.

Closer...Closer...Closer...

WAM!

Bogmire falls to the ground.

The little brat had punched him.

Still holding his chin he watched as the little girl was moving all over the bed. She looked as if she was having a horrible time.

"I wonder what is wrong with her?" he whispers as he waits for her to calm down.

Finally after what seems like forever she flips onto her side and begins snoring softly.

Bogmire runs over and puts his hand on her head.

With hardley no noise at all he soft snoring slowly comes to a stop.

And with that the little girl was dead.

Smiling with himself he turns to leave the room.

All of a sudden he felt a pain in his hand.

The little brat was kicking him!

He slaps his hand.

"Stop that!"

The kicking stops.

"Damn little brat!" he mumbled as he left the room...off to find his next victim.