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Language:
English
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Peja's Wonderful World of Makebelieve Import
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Published:
2020-11-05
Words:
1,317
Chapters:
1/1
Kudos:
6
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1,461

Dexter Online

Summary:

Summary: Just Dexter, surfing the ‘net, and thinking.  Dexter’s POV

Notes:

(See the end of the work for notes.)

Work Text:



Dexter Online
By Scribe

It must’ve been more challenging to be a successful serial killer before the advent of the Internet.  Think about it.  If you needed unusually large supplies of slightly odd things (plastic sheeting, cling wrap, garbage bags, duct tape) you had to go out and buy it.  You had to meet a person—more likely a series of people—face-to-face.  People who might remember you.  When you’re my kind of hunter being remembered, no matter how vaguely, is not a good thing.  I’m avoiding that now.  I’m sitting at my desk at home, my laptop open in front of me, doing a little online shopping.

The only light in the room is from the screen, and the faint red glow coming from under my mouse.  I learned to be comfortable in the dark a long, long time ago.  The room is silent except for the faint hum of the refrigerator in the kitchen, and the whirr of the air conditioner.  Oh, and the occasional jarring rattle of sound from a pop-up ad that somehow manages to slip through.  I’m sure I’m not the only person who’s ever fantasized about killing whoever invented those.

Things can be so anonymous in cyber space.  Get a credit card under a bogus name (those hundreds—thousands?--of ‘secured’ credit card offers sure come in handy), and you’re good to go.  Hit Google and you can find a list of possibilities for anything.  Pick and choose.  You can buy from someone located half-way around the world if you like.  You can check them out with the Better Business Bureau to minimize the possibility of being stiffed.  There are a lot of dishonest people in the world.

I need more cling wrap.  I’m not anywhere near out, of course, but I never know when it might be politic to really, really lay low.  My work is too important to be delayed because of a simple lack of supplies, and I CAN’T skimp.  If one of my projects manages to get loose it can get… messy.  Messier than usual.  Messy literally and figuratively.  I guess Little Chino proves that.  Not only did he get away from me once, but the prey almost got the hunter the second time I went for him.  I’ll never look at a sewer the same way again.  I didn’t think it was possible for me to be more careful than I already was, but after Chino my purchase of restraining materials just about doubled.

Sometimes I use the same supplier multiple times, but I’m not going back to that last one.  I think they cheated me.  They claimed the roll was a half-kilometer of wrap.  That should have been…  Uh…  Metrics were never my thing.  Quick Google, and…  That should have been a little less than 1640 feet.  It just didn’t seem like that much, but what could I do?  I couldn’t very well report them because their product only restrained seven people instead of a dozen.

Say, here’s one that claims that their product is environment friendly.  Strange.  I never considered it friendly at all.  Useful, yes—but not…  Heck.  I better make a mental note never to have that conversation with anyone except possibly a New Age-er.  They attribute human emotions to practically everything.  Anyway, environment friendly sounds good.  Rita is always talking about going green, recycling.  I just wish she’d quit trying to convince me to use only one sheet of toilet paper at a time.  I could do that, but I’d be in the toilet forever and my hands would get raw from washing.

Okay, one…  Make it two rolls.  The price is reasonable.  And that just about drains THIS piece of plastic.  I lay aside the card for later disposal.  I’ll chip it up and melt the bits, then leave the resulting blob in some public trash can.  I’m not done shopping yet, but I set up another dummy card several months ago just for this eventuality.  I get it out of my desk drawer and check it.  In novels the bad guy often uses playful or ‘significant’ names for things like this.  Maybe in honor of another killer, like James ‘Jack’ Ripper.  Or a joke, like Marion Michael Morrison (you DO know that’s John Wayne, right?)  I find that a little too precious, and stupid, stupid, stupid.  People remember things like that.  I usually flip through the phone book and pick a first name from one page, and a last name from another.  This time I’m Justin Bergeron.

I visit a hardware and do-it-yourself supply site, and order plastic painter's sheeting and a couple of dozen rolls of duct tape.  Harry said that you could take care of half the problems in the world with just duct tape or WD-40.  I only need the WD-40 to keep a few of my tools in order, but I'd be lost without the duct tape.

Okay, that's all I NEED, but it's still early.  Perhaps I ought to see if there's any new equipment out there that strikes my fancy?  It's usually a toss-up between hardware tools and kitchen impliments.  I'll check out the kitchen ware first.

Bingo.  The Food Network site is having a sale.  I see a filet knife that I have to have.  Hm.  They're offering free shipping if you order over a certain amount.  That knife is pretty pricey, but it's not quite enough.  I know--I'll by a Paula Dean cooking video for Rita.  Almost all the recipies listed sound family and kid friendly.  That woman does love her butter, though.  Reminds me of Emeril and his pork fat.  It's a good thing I don't consider all the people they've lured into heart attacks, strokes, and diabetes as fitting my code.  Otherwise I might have to travel.

Anything else before I hit the sack?  Let's check Amazon.com.  Search... serial killers.  Jeffry Dahmer, Ted Bundy, Ed Gein, Aileen Woronov, Gacy, Manson, Starkweather...  I wouldn't count him.  I mean, he didn't take any trouble to try to hide his crimes.  And taking his girlfriend along.  What was up with that?  Rita's terrific, but she'd be of absolutely no use on an operation.  Too sane, bless 'er.  This one looks interesting.  'How to be a Serial Killer'.**  Huh.  Judging by the cover it's a humor book.  It would be interesting to see what someone who wasn't a serial killer would come up with if he wrote a serious how-to.  Of course he'd either be arrested or committed pretty damn quick.  I'd better pass it by.  It could be one of those little, insignificant things that gets an otherwise successful killer caught.  I can just hear Doaks if he found out.  'What the hell is that, Morgan?  You looking for tips?'  Why, no, Sergeant Doaks.  I'm laughing my ass off at how ridiculous his suggestions are to someone who has even a touch of experience.

I'd better go to bed.  I've got another possible target chosen--she's has three stepchildren either die, go missing, or 'run away', from two marriages.  She moved to Miami ten years ago, and I need to start digging into her past.  If there's any similar incidents elswhere it'll be time to really put her in the crosshairs.

I check my email just before I sign off, and find myself smiling.  There's an email from Asterncodysmom--Rita.  It's got an attachment.  Well, I'm pretty sure she wouldn't be sending me a virus, so I open it.  It's an E-card, one of those personalized ones.  It shows a plump cartoon policeman stuffing his face with donut, both hands full of more pastry, and an empty, crumb filled box beside him.  It says 'We love you, donut grabber'.  It's 'signed' by all three, and Rita added, 'Don't blame me.  Cody and Aster picked it out.  I just agreed. :)'

I go to sleep with a smile on my face.

 

end

Notes:

This orphaned work was originally on Pejas WWOMB posted by author Scribe.
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