A serial killer with a sense of humour.

I sleepily opened my car’s trunk and bent over and picked up a black plastic bag and slowly walked toward the river, digging my nose furiously, with my free hand.

I enjoy moments of solitude. No one around to stare at you digging your nose or scratch your ass, as you contemplate if he’s the next one to experience your beloved knife’s cold metal.

Yes, I’m a psychopath. I have extreme tendencies to kill, and fortunately I was smart and lucky enough to avoid run- ins with the law.

I looked around squinting sleepy eyed, to check if anyone was there. I undressed the cover to reveal six smaller bags. I looked around another time, and undressed one another cover, and picked the pair of arms and run them across my nose. Aaah, the mingled smell of a dead body and it’s perfume.

I threw the arms into the river as I stepped back and heard the convincing splash.

Next, I emptied the legs onto the array of water as I heard the water make way for its gifts from me. As I emptied the covers, there was eerie silence. It felt like the world had silenced so I could hear the river splashing as it accepted my gifts.

Lastly, I undressed the last cover; the most unacceptable of them all: the head of my last victim. I slowly picked the head and took a deep breath, and let the head roll into the water when I heard the sound that I dreaded.

I heard two splashes, and if I was not mistaken, I had only one victim today, that meant only one head, unless my victim was a greek character that had sprouted another in the meantime.

I quickly turned on my flashlight, quickly and shone it around to see who was the one who had thrown in something into the river. I had to catch hold of this guy, who could possibly have seen what I’d just fed to the river. I felt my handcuffs in my back pocket and reached out to them, as I moved in quietly, swearing under my breath.

I shone it around and found a woman dumping a pair of arms. I swore I saw it. I mean what are the odds you meet a fellow serial killer while dumping a body? I stuffed the torchlight into my pocket and fled, because being a serial killer I knew what would be your fate if you spotted a serial killer dumping a body.

I quickly made my way into my car, and tried to quickly switch them on and flee when I felt my hand stuck. I couldn’t move it.

I was wrestled to the ground, and my face was facing a torchlight, and an exceptionally strong woman.

“I promise this mouth can keep secrets” were my last words.

Well, you wish. I wasn’t dead. the next morning I woke up in this really airy and bright barn. I was handcuffed and gagged, of course. I tried my best wriggling, and squirming but handcuffs are truly difficult to come from. I can tell that from my own choices for my victims, and now, from experience, but nothing is ‘not worth a try’.

I heard some footsteps and stopped squirming.

“I’m gonna have to kill you.”

I protested as much as possible with non verbal actions, but she didn’t seem to get it and drew her sharp blade across my cheek.

I’m thinking you dramatically expected me to wriggle away from my handcuffs, and punch that woman in the face and save my life and this story for good, but I can assure you, none of that happened.

She stood up and picked up a few drops of my blood and walked across the room and added it to her box of laurels.

She then returned to finish her job when I did the thing that seemed most sensible at that point. I kicked her in the face.

She stumbled and cursed out loud and then there was frantic banging on the door. She grit her teeth and quickly unlocked my handcuffs, and dragged me along outside the window.

She carefully tiptoed to her car and clicked my handcuffs along with the car and sped away as fast as she could.

“So long to get you killed!” she sighed. “What were you doing at that time near the river smartie?” she asked me.

I groaned in response to tell her I couldn’t exactly speak, and she sarcastically nodded and just drove on.

After hours of driving, I realised she’d driven us back to the river. She ripped my gag off and whispered rudely into my ear, “Who are you?”

“Adam Jones, of course.”

“Haha. Why did you dump a head into the river?”

“Why did you dump a pair of arms into the river?”

“So you did see it. I should have known there was another one in the town. This is all my fault.” she sighed.

She came closer to my face; closer to the point where I could smell her breath. I’m pretty sure it smelt of Oreos.

“I give you two options, I dump you into that river, handcuffs and all, or you do what you’re told.”

“I have a death wish.”

“PFFT.” she said and slapped my blood stained cheek.

“I’m betting that changed your decision.”

“Nope.” I spat. “I want you to take these handcuffs off before I make any decision.”

“So you can take off without completing the deal, darling?” she smiled.

“The longer you stay here the more unsafe it is for both of us, and you know that.” I reminded her, feeling smug.

Sometimes, I must admit that despite my impeccable sense of bad humour, I am extremely smart at this stuff.

She sighed and gave in and unlocked my handcuffs. She whipped out her gun and waved it threateningly, conveying, ‘You run, I shoot you in the fucking head.’

“Here’s the deal. I do what you tell me but,.”


“..you first do what I tell you.” I said tackling her gun out of her hands and pointing it at her.

“Wow.” she said and smiled, as she accelerated the car straight into a tree.


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