The suburban townhouse is always a calm and peaceful place to live. The houses aligned, with the classical wooden fences we see in the movies, give to the place a country air. In this bucolic environment, you can pretend that everything is right and move on, even when you have reasons to stop and fight for something or even help someone in danger. But, when you look to all the pretty white houses, pretending that everything is fine, even when it’s not, you can’t just ignore the feeling of “not my business” and do something. I fact, they’re calling you to do nothing. And Doe — from John Doe — always know that the better place to start over is always a townhouse in the suburban area. You don’t have the neighbors butting your life like in the country, but you have the country air and the pretty little fences. Doe always love the way they look in the darkest hours of life — and night.


Nobody knows the new neighbor. The strange new neighbor. He had always an air of distinction, everybody always think about him as someone with study, or at least, someone who knows exactly what is doing. That’s the main reason why he always get what he needs, and also, the sympathy for his situation: a man in a wheelchair always obtain more sympathy than a man with his two legs. After Doe moving in, the only thing his neighbors know about him was that he have lost his legs in a car accident — that was the third he tells to everyone who asks about it — where he also lost his little daughter and his wife. “Well, they both die in a car accident” was what Doe thought when telling the story to a full house in a Welcome Party.


The months passed by in some kind of a modern odd version of Groundhog Day, everyday day was the same. The same boring people passing in my front window, waving to me with a white fake smile that everyone master when in the societies like that. I just wave back and sometimes nod with my head, pretending to care about it. People, certainly, are talking by my back, thinking how disgusting I’m. A man with no legs can be very disturbing to see, especially when this man don’t wear any kind of protection on what’s left of his legs — on purpose, just to shock. You know, the scars on my somewhat legs are always a good start to shock people and leave them unprepared to deny everything to me.

A lot of people think that just because you’re on a wheelchair you’re not able to do anything that requires more strength, like kill someone. They’re completely wrong. In fact, the years on a wheelchair, pushing yourself through the streets, give your arms an extra muscle force, you’re more capable of throttle someone with easy than a person who not have to push your own weight every-fucking-day like some kind of modern horse-man. But, you know, that’s kind of interesting. Also, people tend to see you when you are a handicapped as someone weak and incapable of doing something like a cold-blood murder, you usually see handicapped people like someone that was incapable of doing anything illegal, imoral or even brutal. They think that justa because I’m in a wheelchair I live in the marshmallow road and in a chocolate house. That’s definitely not true, but, that’s also an advantage if someone wants to commit another murder.

But not just a regular murder, not. This is for amateurs.

This kind of people who kill people just to see the blood on the stress is the worst kind of killer. You see, every life is valuable, so, when you’re taking one, you have to make it valuable. This means you have to prepare yourself to a ritual, you have to make you own “death preparation” to kill someone in order to honor the life you’re taking away. That’s why I’m here, in this shitty neighborhood with all this shitty people pretending they care about me and about my dead family, to look out for someone who worth kill and also that be dumb enough to give me no hard work. I hate to work hard just to get people’s attention.

My first victim here was Ewan. He was this kind of suburban husband who hate his wife and kids but is impossible to him to get out the marriage, after all, what the other unhappy families in the city will think about him? Ewan was the perfect target: dumb and drunk and always looking for some excuse to leave his house. In one hot night I invited him to come to my place to see some stupid NFL game. I really don’t give a fuck about that, but, these WASPs always have a thing for NFL. He accepted on the spot, even more, he promised me to bring food and beer, so I don’t have to leave the house to get anything. It’s kind of nice of him: be murdered and still bring me some food and some beer. I really liked that guy; it’s almost a shame that I take so long to kill him.

The night was on, the TV was on the fucking game and I was dressed like some NFL supporter moron, you know, with the #1 finger and everything. Ewan was already drunk when he arrived, also, he smells like cheap perfume. I remember to see a brothel in the city entrance, probably Ewan remember that too. He just leaved the beer next to me and proceeded to the kitchen to make some sandwiches to us, for the game you know. A lot of people know that barbiturates and alcohol are not the best combination, but, what just some people known, is that you can put someone in a safe coma with a small dose of Phenobarbital and beer. You see beer has a low alcohol rate and Phenobarbital have a prolonged action, this two features combined give the combination of Phenobarbital + beer a good power to become a deep sleep agent. A man like Ewan can’t weight more than two hundred pounds and the bread of the sandwiches gave him an extra absorption power. So, in my first calculations, I just put a little more Phenobarbitals that I used to use with people with an empty stomach. Fifteen percent more to be precise. Ewan was a tough man; he took almost an hour more than I expected to fall in my couch, but, at least, before the last quarter started Ewan was sleeping like a drug addicted, slobbing everything and shitting in his pants. Finally he was prepared to the second part. I have to study a little more about the Phenobarbital effect; it’s not supposed to take so long to put a middle aged man in a deep sleep.

Anyway. After put him on a deep sleep, came the bad part: take the body to the basement. That was always the worst part for me. It’s really rough to take a body with you when you have no legs and have to put a two hundred pounds idiot on your lap and then pushing your own wheelchair to the basement entrance. It took me almost an hour to do that, but, in the end, everything goes fine. Stairs are also another problem when you have no legs. I’m able to down stairs on my own when I’m alone on my wheelchair. It’s not that hard and you easily maters this kind of trick on your first week of wheelchair. But, with a moron on your lap it’s not that simple anymore. Remember when I talked about the respect you need to have for human life, even you’re taking one? Well, sometimes you have to forget that for a while and do whatever you have to accomplish your mission. I looked down the stairs and then pulled away the body of Mr. Ewan. The stairs are pretty short and, you know, it’s not like he will be mad at me because of that. So after an hour dealing with the body, it’s time to start for real. The first you have to known when you’re about to flense someone is that you could not kill the person before you dismembered him. The rigor mortis caused by the death starts after 3 hours, depending on the temperature, and your body will start to stiffen and you will not be able to work again until 36 hours. This occurs because of the ceasing of respiration in your body will cause a lack of oxygen; this will lead to a depletion of oxygen that will lead to a complete loss of ATP, which is the responsible for the cross-bridges during the relaxation, but, the myosin is still running in the body blood, binding with active sites of proteins, like ADP, responsible for the relaxation of the muscles, so, if you’re not able to breathe you body are not able to understand the lack of oxygen you are passing trough and the ATP isn’t able to tell the body to stop and the ADP and myosin aren’t able to relax you muscles. This make very difficult to work with members, not impossible, just difficult, but man, I hated when I have to work harder than I expected. For my luck, Mr. Ewan was not dead when I started the flense him.

Some people think that you need to have a lot of instruments to flense someone. That’s not hundred percent true. Of course it will help if you have some surgical equipment, but it’s no mandatory. For Mr. Ewan I only have a book of anatomy and a set of three really sharp knives. Now, what is really important is to know where to cut. You can’t cut the bones, it will fuck your knife and the result will be shitty. The better start is always in the joins, like the knee, the elbow or the ankle. You have few bones there and these bones are weak, weaker than a femur for instance. You cut the tendons and the separate the member from the rest. I suggest to start with the feet-ankles, it’s more easy to sharp your skills and also more reliable that you’ll not fuck your instruments. Then you can go the knees, the pelvis, arms and finally the head. The head it’s the more easy to get and also the more satisfactory when you done. Mainly because this remembers that you’re finally done with your job on the body.

The last thing, before the cops, is the get rid of the corpse. I recommend — and that’s what I do whenever possible — is to put some pieces in your basement. You can dig a hole and then cover with cement and then put the torso there — the torso is always the worst part to get rid of — and then, the rest of the body, you can feed your dogs — if you have dogs — or you can get our car and leave the pieces from over the city — take care with the security cameras, they can incriminate you — creating a puzzle to the police. It’ll be fun.

Another thing you have to know is how to getaway of the suspicions. You know, you’re the last person to be seen with the dead, it’s pretty obvious that the cops will came to your house and interrogate you as a suspect — this is another point when have no legs is good, the handicapped is always treated like a moron, a second class person, a person that is impossible to do something like that … and a handicapped that have all his family is always a non-profitable suspect — and for that you need to have someone to put the guilty. In my case, the Mr. Ewan himself gave me the exit for the cops: the cheap perfume. I just say that Mr. Ewan was drunk and smelling like a donkey when he arrived at my place and so I send him home and go to sleep after the game. His wife started to cry and confirmed that was a habit of Mr. Ewan to “take a break” at the brothel in the city entrance. Point for me. The cops are out of my house and I not a suspect anymore — ok, I was, but nothing will be proved since Mr. Ewan was a dick and no one seems do care about him. Another advice: if possible, choose your victim wisely, someone who was a dick before the death has more chances to not be so beloved by his family and so has more chance to be left alone in your basement to rot.

The last advice is to always have a plan B for when the cops get you. And they will, don’t be so proud of you, sooner or later you’ll slip up and they will get you. For this time I suggest to have a cyanide tooth of something like that — the cyanide tooth will get you a more sophisticated look. Because, believe me, you do not want to go to jail. It’s a nasty place where they have no education and no respect for life; it’ll be more pleasant die than to go to the jail. Now, excuse me for the hurry, but the game is about to start.