The girl was blond. They always are. When my hands wrapped around that delicate swan’s neck, she put her own frail fingers around my wrists, trying to pull them away. It was adorable. I could barely feel the hands on mine, nevermind their weight.

You might wonder what she did wrong, you with convictions on what should/should not be allowed in modern society. I am slightly bound by that world, but am trying to overcome it. Still, I had all the fun I could have with her – before, during and after. Now I had to pay it with cleaning and burying, then cleaning again.

It was cheaper than buying her dinner.

So why?

She was blond and I was bored.

And I had so much fun taking those last breaths away from her.

I had some bleach from the last one, so I cleaned out the truckbed. Oh sure, if the CSI crew came around, my ass’d be toast.

Luckily, real law enforcement is not that sophisticated.

I am living proof of their limitations.

And the blond? I guess she’s also proof, just not living.