A name says a lot. It is like your 411 Business card. It says something about you. Occasionally, yes only occasionally, I get asked how I got named Serial Killer.
Well, how was I supposed to know my name is aligned with negative feelings from humans. It all started when I was rescued from a lonely existence living in a barn. Begging for food in back yards. You know the routine.
I didn’t want to go on welfare ( I’ve read about welfare in crumpled up news papers- don’t ask me how I actually read something) so I decided to hunt for myself. I love hunting. It brings me back to nature.
Well, one day a very nice lady came and picked me up and took me home. You know, I wanted to show her my appreciation and let her know that I could pay for my keep. I just kept hunting.
I hunted every day. I found some awesome hunting blinds near some bird feeders. I’d wait for the right moment and Strike and then bag my kill!! I then drug the bodies under the deck and buried them there for future use. How’d I know the police investigate humans when they do this very thing that is so normal and routine?? The 2 legged mammal I live with just laughed and called me a Serial Killer. I suppose it just stuck.
“Like” if you enjoy hunting!!