vorpal butcher's knife off of his nightstand.
"Good God!" he shouted, "these heathens are dirtying my neighborhood!" He pointed the knife at the women and stared at them with a wicked gleam in his eye. "All things dirty," he said as his voice rose to a crescendo, "must be cleansed!" The women stopped their act of love for a moment and looked up at Mr. Rogers. Mr. Rogers shook in anger. These cheap whores, with their cheap make-up smudged all over their faces, were in
his bed. This was an outrage. "Die villainous whores!"
Snicke-snack went the blade as it lopped off the women's heads. "Callooh! Callay! O frabjous day!" he shouted as he picked up the the heads of the women. Quickly, he made several incisions in the back of the heads with his vorpal knife, and he proceeded to pull all the flesh and skin off of the skull with the dexterous hands of a skilled artisan. Mr. Rogers cackled loudly as he tossed the skulls into his nightstand drawer. After he did this, he looked around the room, searching for someone who might be watching. Seeing none, he made an incision at the base of his own neck, and pulled off his mask. The bearded face of
Albert Fish was revealed for the first time in seventy years.
With a smile that could only be performed by the mentally deranged, he began to feast upon the peeled flesh of the women's heads.
"This could only be made better with Chianti and fava beens," Albert Fish stated. He left his tasty morsels for just a moment to retrieve the a bottle of Chianti from his...
