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  geniustoddler says:

  "It was in the summer of 1957 when I met Murderama, a young shoe-shiner at the Tennesee train station known to those in my line of work as 'The Point.' He reeked of the salve he'd smeared about his brow, like licorice and burnt hair, but necessary to heal the scars of his initiation, held prior to my arrival at the Point, so he soon told me.
  
  I knew I had a contact, and that contact would, at no point of coercion, lightly cup my groin as he polished away at my leather wingtips. So he did, and so I knew I had found my man, or boy. We traveled the hills of Tennessee in the Studebaker I had on loan from the company; we stayed long nights in the cheap motor inns deemed safe by central command. I remember our first night as if it was yesterday. Soon he, in the bathroom of one of the seedier lodgings, carved the holy symbols of Xed on my brow with the talon of a hawk, as his initiators had done to him. We then bathed in each other's blood to consummate the ritual.
  
  I have since retired from government service, or so I tell polite wives at cocktail parties. In truth, my line of work I most love is over; gone are the days of needless heedless fucking on coin-operated mattresses, stabbing and gutting night clerks, campaigning on behalf of rotten bankers and real estate men. I do not miss the blood-work. Yet I cannot say the same for my most lucent and lurid adventures with young Murderama, whose whereabouts to this day still haunt me, along with the scent of the salve he wore that one perfect day. May Beelzebub bless you, wherever you may be."

  24th April, 2007

Name:

Scary Manilow

Joined:

December 2005

Hometown:

Spook City, USA

I am:

Male and Taken

Occupation:

Freelance Grave Robber