Meth Man and the Serial Killer

Here’s the YouTude audio with Otis Jury narrating this story 

Forgive me Father, for I have sinned…

I’ve been doing meth so long, I forgot my real name. My street name is Meth Man, because I’m addicted to the stuff.

I’ve been in and out of jail all of my adult life. I’ve failed at all of the rehab centers that I was sent to by the courts. I’m not crazy. Just a hopeless addict with no motivation.

Thanks to my contacts on the street, I’m able to feed my habit and myself, by trading and selling things. Found things. Sometimes stolen things.

When I’m not locked up, I live in the streets. I know all of the back alleys and where your church and the mission for the poor is. I spend a lot of my time dumpster diving, and discovering treasures that were tossed into the trash.

You’d be surprised. People throw away the damnest things.

One day, while going through a row of dumpsters behind the strip mall on 5th Street, I found a human head! It was wrapped up in a black plastic bag that I just opened. Between smelling the rank thing and the horror (eyes were sewn open), I panicked and scrambled out of the dumpster like a cat with its tail on fire!

My heart was beating so fast I thought all of my bad living had caught up to me, and I was having a heart attack. I slumped down to the ground with my back to the dumpster feeling faint and dizzy.

An hour passed, and two street people I knew stopped by and talked for a little bit. When they saw I wasn’t going to get up and go with them to hunt for food they left. I pulled a plastic baggie out of my jacket pocket and poured some of the powdered meth into the flat silver case I always carry. It was once used as a cigarette holder.

Within five minutes of snorting it, I got a nice buzz. Crazy ideas darted around my head like birds in a cage. Was there a murderer stalking the streets that I called home? Maybe it was a one-time thing. An oddity.

Suddenly I got the urge to move, and stood up. Glancing at the dumpster, I resisted the urge to open the lid again. Then I went on with my day. That night there was no news about a head being discovered in a dumpster.

Three days later I’d almost forgotten about the bloody head when I came upon the dumpsters behind the strip mall again. In spite of myself, I opened the one that had the head in it. I don’t know what I was expecting.

There wasn’t a head in there this time. Instead there were two arms, with the hands cut off, in a see-through plastic wrap! I whimpered in fear. This horror was too much for my addled mind.

Reporting the grisly find to the police was not an option. I’d end up in jail again. Meth heads were easy targets and seldom believed. It almost felt like a home invasion. Some monster was killing and dismembering people in my neighborhood. On my turf.

The pickings were too good to just leave the area. So I snorted a line and waited for inspiration to hit me. I came up with a plan. There was a row of birch trees in the field separating the alley from a row of homes.

I climbed halfway up one of the trees, and situated myself to see the dumpsters clearly. I pulled out a pack of corn nuts and began munching. My high had long since worn off and I was thirsty soon after it became dark. Like an idiot, I didn’t plan very well.

I started carefully climbing down the tree when I heard a car pull up behind the alley. I stopped where I was and twisted around to get a better look. A black SUV was next to the dumpsters. The driver door opened. The hatchback automatically opened as the driver walked around to the rear of the vehicle.

He pulled out a long package wrapped in trash bags. The nearby street light cast an eerie glow onto the man’s face. I knew that face. It was the mission’s regular handyman! Panic gripped me, and I almost lost my hold on the tree.

I watched him toss the package into the dumpster and get back into the SUV. When I reached the ground my legs almost gave out on me. I’d never been so scared in all of my life.

That’s why I came to you Father. I knew you’d listen to me when I warned you about that handyman…

“His name is Alfred…”

Well, Alfred is a serial killer. He’s dumping his victim’s body parts into the dumpster behind the strip mall on 5th Street! Last night he tossed a couple of legs, without the feet attached, into the second dumpster to the left.

Just leave me out of the whole thing when you tell the cops okay?

“Don’t worry, my son. I won’t mention you at all.” 

Thank you father. I have to go now.

The priest waited until Meth Man went out the front door of the church. Sighing, he pulled out his cell phone. “Hello…I have more work for you tonight Alfred.”

As It Stands, no heroes here, just lost souls.

Author: Dave Stancliff

Retired newspaper editor/publisher, veteran, freelance writer, blogger. Married 43 years. Independent thinker with a sense of humor. Give my stories a try, you might like them!

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