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"I'M GOING TO RUN YOU A BATH!" whispered Jasper at the top of his voice, perforating several eggs with the concept of language as he admired his handiwork. Autumn really did complete his spice rack. Perhaps now he would be allowed out to frighten the children; he desperately hoped so. Hope was a foreign concept to Jasper, something that despite his constant endeavours he had no chance of ever understanding or experiencing. Much like the clitoris.

Putting down his unwashed Santa costume, Jasper climbed the stairs to find himself in the bathroom. This was fortunate as he had lost himself there many years ago and had been beginning to give up hope of ever finding himself again. Grasping the plug, he thrust it deep within the plug hole, promptly passing out. Still unconscious, he climbed into the tub.

Then, and only then, did he carefully begin to remove his socks and shoes. "TIME TO RUN YOU A BATH!" Jasper screamed inaudibly, removing the last of his clothes.

And then Jasper ran. He ran as hard and as fast as he could. He ran for what seemed like days. He ran until he could no longer feel his feet and his spleen had began to dribble out of his ear. Somewhere a cat wretched. He ran until his heart stopped, and then carried on regardless. He ran until all that was left of him was a deep red liquid; it filled the bath up to the very brim. He had completed his goal. The bath was full.

Jasper had no friends or family. He lived alone. No one got in the bath he had ran for them.

The blood curdled.

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