The Serial Killer

There are some people whom you know are odd. By odd I don't mean with 3 eyes or stuff like that, that is quite normal. I mean people who lead normal lives but one look at them and you know they are mass murderers, serial killers or compulsive sex offenders etc. The unsympathetic eyes, the I don't give a f attitude and the staying aloof - all give you the signals you need. When you see these things in a person, and also add to that the 1000 yard gaze they have, sitting alone, all busy to themselves. Of course they won't have friends or even anyone to talk to. Know why? You know why - because they are serial killers at a minimum, they have their dark passengers. They kill and feel nothing and the life that you see in front of your eyes is just a facade they put up to cover their darker side.

Look at the guy on the extreme left in this image - that's the stare I am talking about.

So we have a serial killer in our office. I wish I could give you his name but well, then he would kill me and perhaps everyone else in this office. Serial killers are paranoid about getting caught. So let's keep his name a secret. The rest I can tell.

So how is he?

Pretty normal, except that he has no friends, never talks, never smiles and walks as if he is limping without any disability. Yes I checked - he has no disability. The limp was also temporary, probably due to a fight with a stronger victim who bit his legs? Perhaps. So anyway, other than that he is normal, but for the lack of empathy that is painted all over his face. It is a miracle he has not yet been signed up for any movie as a serial killer. I guess its because real serial killers don't act as serial killers in movies.

So how does he kill? That's tough to say, but going by his nature and lack of physical strength it seems that he traps his victims in some booby trap of some kind and then slits his throat or something like that. Perhaps he likes to look at some of his mails as his victim bleeds out. The disposal of the body is perhaps handled simply by the good old method of cannibalizing. No one visits his desk let alone his home, so I guess his refrigerator is filled with you know what.

So yeah, this was gory but I had to let go of this off my chest. I am sure he will be on the prowl again. Why don't I go to the police? I am not sure why, but that is partly because...oh chuck it. Gives me creeps - the thought of having to see him tomorrow again, looking at me with the blank stare, as if I do not exist.

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