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The Last Letter |
| Written by Kb | |
| Friday, 14 March 2008 | |
This letter appeared on Lieutenant Cassidy's desk on a Monday morning. Dear Lieutenant, I am genuinely sorry that you weren't successful in your man hunt. I know that this serial killer case was very personal to you. Unfortunately, it had to be either me or you; and I don't intend to spend my life in a cell with common filth. If the court was to decide the death sentence for me, that would simply not be acceptable. I am not scared of death, but it's horribly pathetic to be treated like an animal. You can see where I'm coming from, right Lieutenant? I can't help but feel a tad bit responsible for your efforts to be wasted, but I can't really help you with anything without compromising my safety. One thing I can do is give you some advice. If you ever decide to have a fetish, be sure it isn't blood. Do you have any idea how difficult it is to get to the one point that makes it all worth while? First comes the easy part; choosing the contributor. All you have to do is choose a straggler, one that won't be missed. The next part is a pain; it's when you have to find a place to "squeeze the lemon." (Yes that sounds quite gruesome, but it's not really) Anyway, this is difficult because some people do not give up! They kick and scream, and my least favorite, bite. I have a few scars to show for that. People these days have no sense of dignity. The last part is my personal favorite. However, you probably just finished your coffee with two sugars and one cream, and your toasted bagel with strawberry cream cheese, so I'll be easy on the details. Put plain and simply, I like the feeling of warm fluid on my hands. How I get to this point, I'll leave to your imagination; I know you have one, Lieutenant. The main reason I left you this letter is to inform you of something. I am done with my hobby. I've had my fill of blood. However, as you know, the bills don't pay themselves. For this reason, I intend to find some sort of work in my favorite field. This leads me to believe we will cross paths again. I look foreword to it. Always your friend, The Southside Slaughterer. P.S. Your wife looks beautiful, and your kids, how did they grow up so fast?
With the new found determination, Lieutenant Cassidy brought in the Southside slaughterer, named Paul Cahils, three weeks later. Before a life sentence in jail, Cahils lost a few teeth due to Cassidy's fist.
K. Copyright 2008 Kb |
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