Serial Killer

 

Serial Killer

A serial killer can have a long career if he only kills hookers and runaways, the lost and forgotten ones.  That’s my method: kill the weak to thin the herd.  Each time I kill one of those worthless souls, she’s nothing but a blip in the news between sports and the weather.  If I was stupid enough to kill a college girl or a senator’s wife instead, the press and police and press would be all over me.

It’s a simple hobby. To find a hooker, all I have to do is drive around the worst streets until a hooker hops in my car.  I find runaways  at bus stations asking for change.  But my favorite are hitchhikers.  Those girls must have a death wish. 

Tonight, I got lucky and came across a hitchhiker.  She stood by the road, thumb in the air, dirty from head to toe.  She hopped in.  I said, “Where to?”  She said “The same place as last time.”  Then she locked the doors and grabbed the keys with her muddy little hands.  I should have buried her deeper.