Now, it isn't like I seriously believe he's a serial killer, because (you know) no one hangs out with people they seriously consider serial killers. But of course that doesn't keep my idle, idle brain (essay? what essay?) from churning away: "Nice guy OR Nice serial killer? Nice guy OR Nice serial killer? His flat is a den of desire OR a den of DEATH? Nice guy or serial killer? Sexy date OR sexy DEAD IN A DITCH date!!!?"

Someone watched too much law and order when she was growing up. I'm going to leave his phone number with Charlotte, as well as consult one of those sketch artists, so that when Brisco and Curtis come a'callin', they'll know what to do.

James writes me occasionally about the women he's observed, become infatuated with, and so forth - and I don't think this is too terribly different from it.

EXCEPT THAT HE IS A SERIAL KILLER!!!

Like I don't get nervous enough before dates. Watch him offer me arsenic for my tea. A rat poison biscuit. Oh you know it.

2003-05-05, My ditch avoidance plan

before / after

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