Wednesday, July 2, 2008

At the Serial Killers' Annual Conference

At the serial killers' annual conference, everyone waits impatiently in a low-lit, dank dungeon for Jack the Ripper to arrive. Ed Gein picks at the old, scarred table, its surface a collage of dark stains. Finally, the heavy door to the chamber is shoved open the breeze it creates makes the torches hung along the wall flicker. Every person at the confernece leans deeper into the shadow.

"Sorry for the delay everyone, but traffic was murder," Jack the Ripper says with a leer.

"You know, sir, that was not funny the first twenty times we heard it," H. H. Holmes says.

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