the last thoughts of a serial killer

The Last Thoughts of a Serial Killer

Toe the line. Or is it tow the line? Tow that barge anyway. No, wrong again – tote that barge. Tote the barge, lift the bale. Make bail, bail out, a baleful countenance, Bailey’s gin. So much work to be done, so much to sort out while there’s still time, so many challenges, lifting and barging and towing your way thru life, going toe-to-toe, does it ever let up?

Toe jam, capitulations in a shoe box, get all these words out of your head before they start asking questions – the boss, the shrink, the kids, your bowling team, the police.

Why did you shoot down all those joggers? What if they ask you that? Or what if they ask if you’re off your rocker, gone whacko, flipped out, lost your marbles? Give it some thought, what your answer will be. Do you want to swing or get locked down in a nut ward? There’s no early out once they hang you.

Don’t tell them that’s why you did it, because joggers have empty heads, no words worth talking about, you can see it in their blank faces when they go running by and it makes you see red. See red, Red Sea, Moses screaming orders from the mountain top—enough!

Cease and desist!

Hands on the car!

Spread ’em!

Put on these running shoes…

The nut house or the gallows, either one is better than having them find out about the words. Once they find that out you’ll have to kill all of them. So stay calm. Smile. Don’t give them anything.

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