Fun with Reporters

I received an email from a reporter who stumbled across my blog. He asked if I was for real, and if I was, how smart was it to post crimes for everyone to see. I told him of course it wasn't real. Who would post crimes on the internet for everyone to see? Ha ha.

Then I paid him a visit.

He came home from work late one evening and I was sitting in his small, unkept living room. It was the living room of a man who wouldn't be missed. He didn't even have a dog.

"I hear you have questions," I said, and he jumped a foot.

"Who are you?" he asked. It was a reasonable question.

"I'm the killer who doesn't exist."

"What...oh my God. From the blog."

"I'm going to kill you in a few minutes, Mr. Reporter, then I'm going to blog about it. And no one will believe it at all. The internet is a wonderful thing."

"But -- " he began, and I pointed a very large handgun at him.

"Or maybe I won't and say I did. Again, who will know? Who will care? And if I do somehow get caught, then what? To paraphrase a Jedi Master, I will become more popular than you can possibly imagine." I smiled. "What better way to hide what I do than to talk about it as if it were a lie?"

I stood up and walked over to Mr. Reporter. He would have to change his underwear soon, if given the chance. "Remember what happened to the curious cat." I said, and shot him in the head.

Or in the chest.

Or stabbed him in the throat.

Or left him standing there, sobbing quietly. Hard to say, really.

The Internet is a wonderful thing.