Serial Killer's Diary: Part 18

**Warning: these entries may be graphic and, hopefully, frightening.  Keep in mind this is merely fiction.  No humans (or animals) have or will be harmed in the production of this blog.  All names have been chosen at random and are not meant to represent anyone, living or dead.  Any similarities are purely coincidental**

10/23/13    7:30 AM

      My body aches from the exertion but it’s that sweet agony that runners and bodybuilders extol.  I used to think they were insane but now I finally understand what they’ve been talking about.  Even my morning coffee smells richer and tastes smoother now that I’ve transcended beyond the limitations of my pain.  As I savored my steaming mug of coffee, I clicked on the morning news.  
      Their top story was the death of Dr. Daiwik Dheshmukh (see, Dick was much easier) and a Ms. Claudette Beal.  So, the tramp has a name-not that I care. They also shed some light on the mysterious feminine shadow I saw at Dick’s door.  Plot twist!  The incensed Mrs. Dheshmukh had uncovered the truth behind her husband’s trysts.  She went to the front desk and told them she had accidentally forgotten her keycard.  She provided her driver’s license and since the room was registered to a Mr. and Mrs. Dheshmukh, they gave her a key.  It’s still unclear where she got the handgun but the first thing she did was put a bullet into Ms. Beal’s head.  After the shot, she noticed her husband sprawled out on the grungy carpet with his head split open like a smashed jack-o-lantern and that’s when she screamed.  So, the recently deceased Claudette Beal has been blamed for Dick’s death and his little Missus is currently sporting a D.O.C. orange jumper, awaiting arraignment for the murder of Claudette.

       As an added bonus, Becky the bitch was found in her home last night.  She wasn’t important enough to get top story status though.  Just like I said, no one gave her a thought until she didn’t show up to work.  Her manager at the hospital had called, as did her co-workers, wondering why she hadn’t shown up for her shift.  Apparently, they got suspicious because Becky had been awarded for perfect attendance five years running.  Her employer contacted the police and they approached her landlord.  When the rescue workers finally entered her home, her cat had chewed off parts of her face.  It seems they also took advantage of the hole I’d left in Becky’s belly.  Her entrails were strewn about the kitchen.  I watched the entire program to see if I could score the trifecta- a little shout out, if you will, about Natalie’s Neanderthal but local junkies don’t make the network news.  I guess there just aren’t enough hours in the day for that sort of thing.