Quote:
Originally Posted by Darrell
That's not your CC, that's the hooker in your crawlspace.
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The disease had sharpened my senses --not destroyed --not dulled them. Above all was the sense of hearing acute. I heard all things in the heaven and in the earth. It is impossible to say how first the idea entered my brain; but once conceived, it haunted me day and night. Object there was one. My cigars. oh oh oh. Now this is the point. You fancy me mad. Madmen know nothing. I was never kinder to the old hooker than during the whole week before I killed her. I then took up three cedar planks from the chamber, and deposited all my beautiful cigars between the scantlings and just threw her in a hole out back. Why no care for the old gal, what for she was never as precious as my cigars. A week later some police were at my door. After some talk the officers were satisfied. My manner had convinced them. I was singularly at ease. They sat, and while I answered cheerily, they chatted of familiar things.Was it possible they saw my stash? Almighty God! --no, no! They saw! --they suspected! --they knew! --they were making a mockery of my love!-this I thought, and this I think. But anything was better than this agony! Anything was more tolerable than this derision! Forgive me while I go smoke one!
