“I hate the sight of blood. Quite repulsive really, I mean is it a liquid or sludge? I know, seems odd for me to say since my hobby is murder. That is where my ingenuity kicks in. See, I have my nifty little gadget here. I squeeze the trigger and this spike is pushed out as fast as a frog’s tongue. Quite fascinating to watch, I feel like a kid clicking a pen. Just click, in and out, click, ready and not, click, click. This makes a fatal puncture into the cranium, quick and silent. My lethal paper hole puncher or my deadly human hole puncher. It’s how I got my nick name. The news deemed me the Slaughterhouse Squealer. Apparently my kill method resembles how pigs are slaughtered by a nail through the head. I don’t get the squealer part. There have been reports of a high pitch squeal or whine being heard. Two reports from one nosy neighbor and another from an unexpected arrival. Late night visits like that should not be condoned and clearly that neighbor didn’t know what privacy means. Don’t you worry. I was not spotted and no more intimate reports are being made. I don’t take kindly to eavesdroppers, still, I can’t recall squealing. Whatever, they don’t know my name which I’ll tell you, is Vel Karsh.”
I lean forward. “Also, no one knows I take big whiffs of each victim. People can smell so super.” I inhale.
“You smell like mulberry, I love mulberry. Hmmm,mmmm. Scents are so superb. People should value the sense of smell more. You know how memory is linked to smell, well every whiff can bring me back. I simply buy the shampoo my victim was using and I am back with them. I’m back in the moment. Reliving each kill with each breathe I take. Exquisite.” I lean back and sigh.
“I guess the big question you wonder is why. Why do I kill? In those movies where the hero can deliver the finishing blow to the villain but doesn’t, I didn’t get it. I always thought of course they can. Why did they always hesitate? Their doubt always lead to the same disappointing choice. The villain would taunt and mock and ultimately, live. Why? Why not kill off the bad guy? The same speech was given each time, I mean worded differently sure, but the same dumb speech of I shall not kill. All of them are completely pointless. Don’t look a gift horse in the mouth. Each one of those morons looked. I started seeing the villain was right. The heroes are dumb. You have an opportunity to end someone, you take it. I would. My buddy Melvin helped me better understand this notion, greatly. He was an accident though. Many beginnings happen from accidents.”
I lean forward once more. “I know, I’m prattling on about myself but you’re asleep. The news did get that right; I strike all my victims while they are sleeping. You are the special one I felt like sharing with. Well, I’m done sharing…” “Funny, I still don’t hear it.”
