I was in the shower washing away the gore from my body. It felt good to be clean even though I would always have blood on my hands. I got out of the shower, dried myself and grabbed a red robe out of the closet. I was glad it was something other then white. I went under the sink wear I store phamildahyde and some jars. I poured the liquid into the jar and put the severed member in it. I sealed the lid, observing the latest trophy…a very small trophy.

I put the prize away next to the mirror and went back into the bedroom. The place was a bloody mess so I went into the kitchen to get cleaning supplies. I have a thing for cleanliness, at least for the things I view important. Back in the old days when I was just a nameless serial killer, I had to clean everything all the way down to the hair. At least in this house I don't have to clean like an OCD person.

First I had to get rid of the body, I dragged the Awesomeness of the bed into the living room. I stopped and moved the vase slightly. As I did this the floor opened up to an incinerator. I pushed the body into the hole and closed it. Once the door closed the furnace went on. If you wanted to listen closely you could hear the flames cracking underneath. I went back into the bedroom to finish the rest of the cleaning.

Once everything was bleached, washed, and in the laundry I finally had the chance to sit down. My stomach growled at me, that's when I remember I left my dinner in the Lambo. "Ah, fuck…..Holly!"

"Yes, Miss Lovejoy?" said the house, the whole place was a robot. "I left my dinner in the Lambergini and I'm too tuckered out to go get it, can you zap it from the car to here Holly, please?" I said politely, I always believed in being polite to employees unless they were purposefully being rude. I use to work in a crummy theater in Wichita before the place went to hell. Customers have the capacity to be impatient assholes that look forward to ruining you life by complaining like a little bitch. Let me tell you my humble readers, the theater is the worst place to work at but, then again just about anywhere is the worst place to work at.

In a second my meal was zapped from the car to the table. In ravenous hunger, I scarffed it down in five minutes. After I was done, I asked Holly for the burners, pills that burn away the fat after you eat. One of the reasons I have fit body but it only works if you eat something because if you don't it will suck all the fat out of you and the next moment you're in the hospital or dead on the floor. "T.V. on, turn to channel 36 please," I commanded. Channel 36 was called Reality Live were all the reality shows are watched. Right now 'Droog' was on. I was watching this for a reason, I wanted to see how the rest of my droogies deal with the Shore people.

First it starts out with Petra laughing like a hyena with two idiots trying to fondle her. Georgette and Diva were right behind them. I knew what they were about to do, Petra was just a pretty distraction while the others begin to prowl like lions. As it was about to get to the good part, a familiar little click went off in my ear. "Zoya, this is Stan Rubik, you hear me?"

"Loud and clear, sir. Why the sudden call?"

"It's about the next showing and the convention," said Rubik. I bit my lip in frustration. I could stand a showing (a filming) but a convention was irritating. Sitting around signing worthless autographs is not in my taste. At least I'm an honest celebrity. Those oscar nominated or emmy something whatever are nothing but fakes to me. I hate their smiles, their looks, their egos, their illusioned minds that they're important. They're like those self centered kids you'd like to punch in the face to a bloody pulp while their rich mommy and daddy are sitting next by watching without a care.

"What about them, sir?" I asked, deep down in my heart I was hoping the convention was burned down or better. I was even hoping a showing was cancelled for that day. I would love to get a break, serial killers need breathers as well. "The showing and the convention are going to happen in the same place. I think it would be a place you are familiar with, Zoya." At that moment I was thinking of places I've been: Los Angeles, New York, London, Berlin, Mexico City, Moscow. Even though I've done a showing and a convention together or not to all these places, none of them had any real familiararity. That's when it hit me. "Sir…Are you meaning Wichita, Kansas?"

He didn't answer for a moment until he answered yes. I was sitting in the chair speechless, I didn't know weather I should be happy or scared to go back. Happy to see my sister, happy to go meet the places I use to go as a child but, scared because there are people there that want me dead. When I first got released from prison I was almost assassinated only the guard took the bullet instead of me. I was grateful to be alive but, unfortunately it increased my paranoia. That's one of the reasons why I always feel like I'm being watched

"Hello? Still there Miss Lovejoy?" I snapped out of my trance, shaking it off. "I'm fine, over and out," I said, then Rubik clicked off. I sat in my chair not really looking at the T.V. thinking about Wichita, about Halloween, the night I got beaten with Isaac holding me up, the hospital, everything. While all this was going through my head, my main focus was on Isaac.