Tuesday, January 6, 2009

Three Dozen

No piece bigger than a quarter, that’s my rule. You can use knives and acid to strip the meat off the bone. The clothes you can burn. But then you have to break up the skeleton into fragments small enough that they won’t attract attention, that they don’t look human if you come across them. There are plenty of places to scatter them if you’ve done the job right. I’ve taken down three dozen this way.

Of course you have trophies, but you must hide those too. The police can find them in your crawlspace, in your attic. If you rent a storage unit you’re asking to be caught. But you can’t just give them up. You have to be able to take them out once in awhile and… remember.

I’ve found the perfect way. It’s not for everyone. The tools hurt worse than you can imagine. You might get infection if you don’t sterilize everything. But when you’re done, you can just let the authorities search any part of your house. I have three dozen trophies, hiding in perfect plain sight. I just smile when the police come. And no ever counts my four extra teeth.

(Read Poe's Berenice here)


  1. The punchline on this one was truly unexpected, inventively grisly, and totally brilliant. Bravo.

  2. Both grim and funny. I may have to try this.


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