I have a terrible feeling, I know exactly what my future holds. Quite frankly, I'm scared. I will be murdered. Thus, I will spend what little time I have left spreading cryptic clues around the world that will ultimately lead to my murderer. I don't know exactly who will murder me, but using the latest in modern technology and a magic 8-ball I have determined the top 3 most likely suspects.
The third most likely suspect to murder me is a man who currently resides in Lubbock, Texas. His sinister name is Pete "The Lightning Eater" Peterson. When I asked the magic 8-ball about his nickname name it exploded, I'm still pulling shards of it out of my hand. Let me be the first to say that I would never screw with someone known as "The Lightning Eater." What motivation could he possibly have for wanting to kill me?! Then it hit me like a sack of potatoes... what if he is one of those guys I've messed with over the internet under the veil of anonymity? What if he used the magic of the internet to track me and find out who I am, where I live, my sleeping patterns, what I like to eat, that my favorite movie is A Walk to Remember, would he tell all my friends?! Would he tell them my deepest darkest secrets? Would his goal be forcing me into a manically depressed suicidal state? I tell you what, if my friends ever found out I cross dress as Sailor Moon and go to anime conventions as my feminine alter ego Sandra Hugsalot I don't know what I'd do.
The second person most likely to murder me is my next door neighbor named Simon Louis. He is probably the creepiest man on the entire planet, his existence is an enigma in the face of human evolution. His arms are so long they drag across the ground when he walks. I swear there are no bones in this man's arms. What makes his long, boneless arms creepy is the way he walks. It's almost as if he's slithering across the ground. Now sure, it's not fair to judge a man by his appearance, but let me fill you in on what I'm guessing is his daily routine. Every day as the mail man approaches to drop off his mail, god knows what he would be receiving, Mr. Louis opens the window nearest to the door and flails his disgustingly long arms around like a mad man while making whooping noises. At night he opens his garage and stands at the end of his driveway, from there he pulls a garbage bag from the trunk of his car (still from the end of the driveway, mind you) and stuffs it into his trash can, and begins to beat it with a stick. There are a few things about this disturbing display of violence that truly frighten me. First off, none of my neighbors seem to think it's weird. I feel like I'm the crazy one, which might be the case now thanks to Mr. Louis. Secondly, every time he hits the garbage bag it makes a sickening squish sound, like a toddler being hit with another toddler made of jell-o. Lastly, when he's done, he smashes the garbage down into the trash can as far as it will go, and climbs into it with the trash he had just beaten, oh god I hope it's trash. Sometimes he hangs upside down from his roof staring at my room from across the street. He will hang there for days at a time. The scariest part about him, though, would be his amazing ability to drive better than the rest of Hammond traffic. I'm not even sure how he drives with his retarded long arms, or how he got a drivers license.
—J-Set
