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To kill. It's great. I prefer slicing. Slowly.

  • To kill. It's great. I prefer slicing. Slowly. Fast. How ever the fuck they deserve it. Or how ever the fuck I feel like it. Welcome to the mind of a serial killer.
  • Or should I say welcome to the jungle? In a serial killer's mind there are multitudes of tigers, tigers, burning bright. Everything in here is symmetrical, evil and deadly.
  • But fearful symmetry aside, in the mind of a serial killer lives an Architect who is mapping the boundaries of Albion on your skin. All in service to the auguries of innocence drip
  • dark blood, retching down under the Bag Head of Baghead's brown paper bag. It lunged at us, emaciated arms swinging, from the dark forest, uttering a guttural wildcat banshee howl.
  • I tried running away but immediately tripped over
  • my basked of used “The Wedding Planner” laser discs. The cases scattered and burst open causing discs to speed through the air slicing the arms of my
  • couch into very neat fillets of fabric and stuffing. The LaserDiscs then broke through the wall and crashed into the next apartment. Thank goodness nobody was home, or that would
  • have been messy. we cleaned up the place and went to bed. the next morning I had to go to work, ok that sounds like a problem but it actually is not. i really like my job,
  • because who wouldn't enjoy masquerading as Death in a dungeon? Especially when a party of schoolkids turns up and one of them is scared of
  • saying something dumb for his famous last words.

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