Throughout history, even before written, we were there. The numbers add up. It’s all about the numbers. It’s always about the numbers. And the angels wept.

The Angel of Death the orderly who claims eighty “mercy” killings, Robert Charles Browne says he killed forty- eight, Juan Vallejo Corona murdered twenty- five, Marybeth Tinning poisoned nine of her children and of course, Henry Lee Lucas who confesses 3000 although investigators seem to think a more believable number to be 213. And the angels wept.

But how many are still out there whose names have yet to make the headlines, whose names will never make the headlines. The ones who don’t want to have their fifteen minutes of fame. Those of us who aren’t in it for the glory. Not even for the thrill. There is no “thrill” in death. There is simply life, and then.. nothing. And the angels wept.

That is the reason the numbers go on and on. Once the life is over, we must move on to the next. Only the deranged keep trophies. And the angels wept.