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Meat Diary of a serial murderer

Dear diary, I can not

more. The day has come. Today I bought the knives, next appendices of my hands. I'm tired of so much vilification. The boredom of being a man-god-if not unemployed I have become a serial murderer. I will not have mercy on anyone and, best of all is that I can blame the system for my misdeeds.

- How do you plead the defendant?
- Innocent, Your Honor. The system forced me to make the facts here tried ... - I say looking at him with tearful eyes, hands in mock prayer.
- ( The mob, enraged, background) Yeah, right! The metric system, do not ... - There are nerves and anticipation in the room, in addition to drug addicts, SSA, Mongols and Kazakhs.
- Silence in the court, order! - The judge and yield.
- Clean my honor, my lord, I am innocent. - I have it on the boat and even winked brazenly, without implied sodomy, only fellowship tavern with alcohol vapors.
- Of course, comrade. Case closed. The defendant is released without charge and receive compensation and congratulations in proportion of 10 to 1.
- Sea since. - This last part I do not understand but escaped by jumping and bald to the prosecutor.

My problem now is the budget. Killing is expensive. And I'm a murderer mileurista and I bought my brothers sharp in all a hundred, with their spreads, so that makes me tear and removal of veins and arteries. The crime then becomes a task of sawing, arduous for me and eternal victims. More than a sawmill, smeared. Smeared my victims die. I optimize my method. And buy more butter. OR margarine, which is cheaper.

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Of how my life turned gray and inane

My previous journey as a spiritual leader not thrived, as we all know. The ending was tragic and degollante but, fortunately, have a double hand eased my pain and my neck trephining. Exiled from my own religious kingdom, built a boat powered by two fans summer, an ironing board and several bales Huelva I served as anchor and recreation, the second issue more crucial to the length of the journey that awaited me. Walked nautical miles far allowed me the extension of the fans, about two meters. Then the momentum took me by the same route as Columbus. Avista boats, Atlantic waves back, I found abyssal life, I ate raw fish and caught a nice tan. On my arrival in the promised land, my eyes glaze did not see the Indians in heat by hanging floral necklaces, wagging their waists and playing tropical tunes, but my wrists noticed the pressure of the handcuffs, screaming and hard players cold and rough asphalt Yankee flavor.

Asked , auscultation and my holes all i NSPECTION, I was interrogated all day and night for five minutes. When checking my tracks, saw that, indeed, I was Joan XXIV, primarily responsible for the American diaspora to Palestine and the construction of the Palace Joan, whose mise en escene agglutinated 125,000 workers. However, since there is no Joanita nor Excelsia , had shut down since its opening it plunged into bankruptcy and addiction to the whole country (for the latter bundles were confiscated my eyes furtively with cryptic and whistles aimed at the clouds .) Quickly and with sto ju trial consisting of a resounding "Guilty!" and a judicial hammer, I was sent to death row. To me, plin , death was not lucid for a visionary new and alien to the mundane like me. In addition, I met people there exalted treatment, curriculum laureate and scarification many, the tattoo process that I was subjected in addition to other capitulations. Yet, through my labia and my telepathic abilities with a baseball bat, I convinced the guard to stay dazed and escaped to the south, as is often directed one film, where no one has a compass and compass points are obvious.

unnoticed

soon came to a seedy poky old town. Saloon not have sent or any sheriff or volatile saltwort swarmed. However, it was seedy. I tried to adapt to the environment asap and champion of mimesis, and rival genius chameleon of the Body Snatchers, pas é to dwell in a house with a porch, not Porsche, double door (one translucent) on the front and third in the rear garden, own guns, drive a ranchera and swallow large amounts of calories. Thus, a Republican, fat, redneck and armed, I've spent the last few days away from my robot status, King and God, supreme leader. Before acclaimed, now ousted and persecuted by the rabble.

Disguised as American WASP, I could leave and return to my home where I even found the outline of my first robotic appendages, remnants of gelatinescos knobs, a little charred postal Joseph Antonio, aka Lucifer and my golden robe, the muse of my mystical inspiration. Now, only I have to wait.