I have been struggling of late, which you probably have noticed. I’ve been feeling a tad lost, and there were a number of distractions which provided convenient excuses. I could lie and say that these excuses were justifiable reasons for failing, but I will not. The truth is that I gave into doubt or despair or something less emo-sounding but whatever you call it, I am resolved to get back on track.
During all this time, I did some thinking about what the point of writing these stories is, and I’m still not entirely sure I came up with an answer. The closest thing I came up with is that I write them in hopes that you enjoy reading them; that they are a bright spot in your day and make the day better. Perhaps the bring a smile at least, or a chuckle now and then. If I’m succeeding at least part of the time, then it is worth it.
Enough of that. It wasn’t the least bit cheery, nor smile educing. We’re going to avoid the shark and jump back into this with…
It seemed like a brilliant way to hide and destroy the evidence of his crimes. He could even make a few bucks from his unorthodox little hobby. He was very grateful that his would-be customers would not even question his product — not if it was wrapped properly, and had labels. People were idiots. This is why one kills them.
Well, not everyone of course.
He was glad that that there were not many people whose hobby it was to kill other humans and then dismember them. It would’ve ruined the market, and if everyone was doing it, well, he’d probably find it less appealing, which was really pretty perverse now that he thought about it.
Once his victims were nicely sectioned into roasts, steaks, and fillets, he carefully wrapped them vacuum-sealed plastics, and flash froze them. They really did look just like the meat parcels at the supermarket, or one of those high-end gourmet meat services. Which was, after all, the point.
When the time was right, he simply took the meat, put it in his refrigerated truck with the name of a well-known meat packer emblazoned upon the sides, and he hit the streets.
His sales pitch was one that he simply borrowed from competitors. When a door opened to reveal a busy housewife, he’s simply explain that he was in a jam. He has a surplus of product on his truck, and would have to pay for restocking it. To prevent this, he was offering his extra meat at a huge discount. One day only. He hated to let these beauties go for such a discount, but, he’d rather that, then to have to take them back to the warehouse.
His pitch was hugely effective. In less than an hour the errant serial killer sold all the evidence of his crimes, to be enjoyed by an unsuspecting public eager for a criminally good deal.
Not a feel good story is it? This was, of course inspired by a conversation I saw in which someone hinted that these door-to-door meat vendors were not entirely “savory” characters…
errant / AIR – ant / 1. traveling or given to traveling. 2. straying outside the proper path or bounds.