My English teacher invited us up to his cliched huge and spooky mansion to prepare for our exams. The house was the size of Rhode Island; room after brightly decorated room. A bloodbath soon ensued.

My creepy teacher turned out to be a witch or something similar and he killed us all in elaborate and painful ways.

Note: I was wearing a shirt made of brass wires that encased glass cylinders. It was not a shirt at all.
Gnarly, no?