Aaron Mahnke

And yet another, he shatters the windows of a local pub and preys on the patrons inside.

And okay, a lot of these reports are just fanciful enough that they do sound like someone made them up.

In fact, my researchers weren't able to find any written accounts of Bandage Man at all that dated prior to 1983.

What I can say is that my team is thorough.

But even if they were all made up, those stories have fully taken their place in the pantheon of Oregon lore.

Now, no good serial killer slash mummy slash zombie slash ghost is complete without a proper calling card.

Hook Hand has his hook, left dangling from teenagers' cars.

Bigfoot leaves those classic giant footprints.

And Bandage Man?

Well, he has his bandages, of course.

In almost all of the stories, Bandage Man leaves a little something of himself behind when he flees.

That is, a filthy, bloodied piece of bandage.

Oh, and we mustn't forget the smell, either.

It's said that Bandage Man leaves the stench of rotting flesh in his wake, clinging to any lingering scraps of gauze.

Which sounds lovely, right?

And I always love a cautionary folktale.

The kind of story designed to keep children from straying into the woods, or teenagers from making out in secret parking lots.

And what kills the mood more than the perfume of rotting meat dripping from a mangled corpse, am I right?

And yet, fictional as it may seem, it never hurts to be wary.

If you find yourself driving down that long stretch of Highway 101 near Cannon Beach in Oregon, you might just want to keep an eye on your rearview mirror.