The hunter dusted off his hiking boots as he entered his lair just before sunrise. Humming a favorite tune, the hunter grabbed the red Magic Marker and crossed out another face and drew a line through another name. He sang to himself, "…so many men, so little time…how can I choose?" I can't believe so many men still cruise Griffith Park at night. Don't they know how many psychos are out there? He hid the body in a small cave near a trail popular with wanna-be astronomers coming from Griffith Observatory. Maybe one of them would notice the sole of his prey's shoe just visible from the trail.
His Casio beeped. Time for meds.
His Casio beeped. Time for meds.