It's a hard life being a suspected psychopath.
People cross the street to avoid me and kids run away screaming for their daddies. Only my dog loves me, but then again he really is a serial killer. Mostly squirrels, but also a nice juicy postman.
I never get any visitors, except for the police. I seem to be the usual suspect whenever there is a petty murder in the village. I suppose they’ll be round again shortly, what with that nice Annelisa Christensen next door having gone missing.
Not to worry though. They'll never find where I put the body.