In Laymon's Terms

Did the deed with Cassandra and Lorraine today, savoring the coming fun with Melinda. Went off like gangbusters in Cassandra almost on contact, but held out for five glorious minutes with Lorraine. Still haven’t managed a bee-jay because of the duct tape over all their mouths, which seems unnatural (my not getting a bee-jay, I mean, not the duct tape). The pictures in the paper of Lorraine showed some of the most pouty lips imaginable. Friends and family claimed she wasn’t taken without a struggle, because she’s a tough one. I take that to mean that she’d bite a man off given half the chance. It sure wouldn’t be worth it to take the chance of those teeth.

So we’re gonna need pliers.

AUGUST 26

The political correctness of the papers is hilarious, and actually quite dangerous. Claire Newman is the fifth (known) disappearance in the past three months. Police do not want to attribute her vanishing to the same person or persons responsible for the first four, but they won’t reveal why. “We have some leads we’re working on,” claimed Detective Keene.

No one will state the obvious: the bitch was too ugly to fit the pattern! Cassandra, Holly, Melinda, and Lorraine were centerfolds waiting to happen. Claire was what happened when you pissed in a test-tube. She was (and I do mean past tense) one of those overweight women whose pounds congregate in one area—in her case, the ass. It looked like someone threw a blanket over a monster truck tire.

You wouldn’t insult your dog by feeding him the remains. Your basement-bound sex slaves, on the other hand...

You never know what might develop when you drop off some film and leave your address.

AUGUST 28

I watched Lissa through her window tonight. I thought she was going to undress, but the phone rang. I have to be completely silent during the summer, because she leaves her window up. Even the sound of a zipper might draw her attention, but that’s part of the thrill.

The phone call was for her. A new boyfriend, apparently. That was rather depressing. I can’t help thinking that if I was the one she was so happy to hear from, I wouldn’t need a basement of women to satisfy me.

Loneliness is vastly underrated.

I did my thing anyway, quietly as possible. They were still going on when I left. Then I went to buy a pair of pliers before the store closed.

AUGUST 29

We’re going through two and three rolls of film a day at Owens’. I develop film for under six bucks an hour for six to eight hours, then I go to his house and do it for free for a couple more. The upside is that I am already up to Binder Number Five.

Stock tip: buy as many shares of Vaseline as you can.

AUGUST 30

Owens is pissing me off.

Remember what I said about my goals? Lissa was at least the second reason I got involved in all of this. It’s been my plan to bring her to Owens’ from the beginning—or better yet, to have Owens bring her there himself. He’s got a great track record, six for six all told. Lissa has everything but a COME THROUGH MY WINDOW, ABDUCT ME AND RAPE ME sign on her house. It’d be nothing for him to do it.

But he won’t.

“It’s not the right time,” he said.

“What are you waiting for, a full moon?” I shouted.

“It’s just not the right time,” he said again.

So I got to thinking. It’d be nothing for him to creep through Lissa’s window and take her. It wouldn’t be anything for me, either, would it? This time we’ll be collaborating on a chemistry project—I’ll administer the chloroform, she’ll succumb. Then I’ll bring her back here.

Owens won’t object, because Owens won’t be around anymore. I’ll get the hang of this kidnapping thing, and I won’t need him. I can have ALL the women to myself, with no more of those disgusted looks when I do as I please with Melinda. At least not from him, anyway.

No more sloppy seconds, and I get the van AND the house. You couldn’t ask for a better divorce.

AUGUST 31

I’ve never kept a journal before either. I guess you’ve heard about me, but we haven’t been properly introduced. I’m Carl Owens. I picked up this nifty little journal from Alex.

You’ve probably figured out that I still have my harem.

I noticed that Alex didn’t care to leave out the truth whenever it suited him. I DID recognize him when he first showed up on my doorstep—from the papers. He was Melinda Trenton’s brother (and I do mean past tense). He forgot to mention that, didn’t he? He sure didn’t seem like the kind of guy to be ashamed of anything, but I guess you never really know some people. For example, I didn’t know that he wanted to kill me and take over my congregation. Personally I was just getting sick of him, and I thought I’d take my chances with finding all the evidence he had against me. He was dead to the world whenever he got going with Melinda...only this time he stayed that way.

His mother isn’t exactly my type, but it’ll be good to have some meat on stand-by when they get done with Claire Newman. I think I’ll hold onto this for a while. Mrs. Trenton might be interested in reading it.