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“I really do want to kill.”
“So why aren’t you gone?”
“Because my therapist has convincing arguments for why I shouldn’t.”
“It could be life or death in court. Your family and friends
“We have to pretend to fuck each other,”
I get off the phone with my mom. Since I didn’t tell her when I was getting married, she didn’t want to tell me when they’d be here.
Other people cleaned the bathrooms before the family arrived. We had to hide bodies.
“I wrapped them,”
“As presents,” he says. I gawk at him. Apparently, he’s been hacking up body parts
“Soren, please tell me this is a joke. That you don’t have a pile of Christmas presents in the garage filled with decaying victims.”
She knows all my sides well enough to know when I’m actually excited—murder, chasing Sophie, and, yes, family visits.
How am I supposed to ask how a boring drive was when I’m watching a serial killer blossom like a crowned prom princess?
Nothing I can do about corpses in the freezer with the fucking Christmas ham.
It took him thirty seconds to become more a part of my family than I am. I’m baffled and impressed, to be honest.
burst into his house and find him still awake, watching TV.
it's A Muppets Christmas Carol. I'm not even recording it at home.
I think I’m in love with my therapist.
One more night of play fucking and another set of twins will be on the way.
No breeding your therapist, you psychopath.
I can handle fawning over her because that won’t lead to anyone's bare pussy rubbing against me while they beg to be fucked.
Was it me in the dumbass heat of the moment asking him to shove his cock in? Look at me, continuing to motivate a serial killer instead of demotivating one.
“Oh! The pastries are on the passenger side. Let me get this guy chopped up and wrapped, and I’ll bring those up.”
Please tell me we aren't out of wrapping paper,”
maybe I wouldn’t need to let off some energy if someone wasn’t begging for me to stick it in,”
I’ll take the pastries upstairs while you chop up the body. Do not put any pieces in the freezer.”
“Where is the big guy?”
“Chopping wood,” I say. My Aunt wanders in,
“Where at? I want to watch.”
“Don’t say that in front of ...
This highlight has been truncated due to consecutive passage length restrictions.
“No, I want to watch too,” he mumbles. He takes a big drink of coffee while my Aunt walks over and rubs his ba...
This highlight has been truncated due to consecutive passage length restrictions.
Instead of playing a gorey Where’s Waldo I go back upstairs.
“Oh no,” he rasps. “I’ve come in my therapist.”
Fifteen minutes later, I look as normal as anyone can after fucking a psychopath, I suppose.
“Right, well… we opened some presents.”
Serial killer one-oh-one, don’t cry when your therapist makes you feel like a puddle of goo.
