Fred Savage

Muerte was afflicted by an ancient curse begrudgingly passed from one generation to the next with cautious ambiguity and flambéed jambalaya. The flailing ailment — a tiny unicorn growing from underneath his left pit of the arm. Named “Fred Savage” by the people of Muerte’s village, the unicorn grew to a girthy nine inches excluding the 2.46-inch horn. Fred Savage was not so much a beguiling antagonist as a woeful reminder of the days of yore when unicorns roamed the earth freely, unfettered by locks of pit hair and friction-induced bereavement. When Muerte was in grade school the other children would taunt him and call him “Horny-pits”.