My favorite type of person is a killer who justifies their craft in accordance with God. I enjoy killing and I was made in the likeness of God. Therefore, God must enjoy killing.

In another universe, I’m fishing in the Savage River in Maryland with my Border Collie. Her name is Lassie.

In this universe I am bedding my new garden with you six feet under. You will make beautiful Sedum.

If you garden, you stalk. You stalk and wait for the right moment to tear up your garden and remodel. If you fish, you lure. I’ve never been a very good fisher.

What I am good at is watching. I’m good at manipulating the mind. I have no interest in manipulating a body. I enjoy watching something suffer.

It’s said that supposedly those with ADHD are drawn to argue because their brains will release and reward them with dopamine. It must be the same as far as my need to see someone in pain. I’d make a great hotline counselor. I’d be satisfied, listening to others suffering.

But no, that job wouldn’t provide me with the same feeling. I can’t explain it. It’s like falling but I can breath. There’s something about seeing someone dead at my hands. As if I feel better because they are dead and I’m still here.

Maybe I’ll plant Hydrangea soon.

[for those of you who might not know, the title is a joke about those tourist engraved pocket knives that say stuff like your name or “World’s Greatest Fisherman”]