The Scary Story of Evil Johnston
My name is Ian; I'm 22 and 1/2 years old (just turned) and I'm here to tell my story.
It was one fateful night at Jersey Mike's. But not just any Jersey Mike's; it was Scary Jersey Mike's. Before then, only my co-worker Gruntilda believed in the story of Evil Johnston, but everyone called her crazy. That was until one Tuesday; a scary Tuesday. A scary Tuesday while I was doing the dishes; the scary dishes. It was scary. However, my scary dish doing was halted when I heard the front doorbell ring. "That's weird," I said to nobody, "It's 30 minutes before closing. I'm gonna give that customer a piece of my mind for having the GALL to order a sandwich within the last half hour of my shift!" When I came to the front, I saw a man who looked awfully Evil-Johnston-like. I went up to him with fear. Luckily, I spoke with nonchalance. "Uhm... What would you like to order, Mr. Not Evil Johnston?" The Evil Johnston-esque man looked at me with his hyper-realistic eyes and said, "I'm going Evil Johnston Mode on you." I immediately called the police. The officers came instantly, as the Evil Jersey Mike's is right next to the LA Police Department. Once the police arrived they shot Scary Johnston to death, making Scary Johnston a victim of police brutality. Once my boss, Mr. Jersey Mike himself came back the next day, I recited the story, telling Jersey Mike that Gruntilda was right about Evil Johnston. That was before Jersey Mike said, "What do you mean? Gruntilda died 54 years ago..." Now, the only proof I have of Evil Johnston's existence is this image: