Allow me to introduce Frank.
I first met Frank while I was working for a local wine shop. I was standing on a step ladder trying to reach a bottle when I felt a slight movement to my left. Being so short, I was used to people running into me accidentally. Thinking nothing of it, I continued to reach high over my head. It was at that moment I *sensed* something. I shivered and goose bumps appeared all over my body. I turned slowly and was nose to nose with a man. Not just any man though.
“Hey there.” He said to me unblinkingly, with what I can only assume was an attempt at a smile. You know those creepy smiles where the corners of the mouth are forcibly drawn upward and the eyes pop out a little?
I did what any woman would do in this situation; I jumped violently and took a step backward. Too bad I was on a step ladder. And down I went onto my backside, becoming completely vulnerable to the man who *must* be hiding a knife up his sleeve or who has duck taped razor blades to his fingertips (real life Edward Scissorhands?).
He was lanky with olive coloured skin and jet black hair that was scattered all over his head, as if he had recently removed a hat. He had perfect white teeth with a bit of a 5 o’clock shadow showing around his jaw line. But the thing I noticed the most was his black, unblinking, flat eyes. He wore a red plaid button-up shirt which is, along with creepy work boots, the first sign that you are in fact dealing with a serial killer. And sure enough, he had heavy steel-toe boots with mud smeared all over them, as if he had been working outside. Did I mention this was late in the evening? So I knew two things at this point;
1. He was a serial killer.
2. He had just come from burying the body of his latest victim.
It is hard to describe the feeling one got in his presence. It is the same feeling you got when you were a child and thought someone was following you home. Pure terror. Your palms start to sweat and everything.
“I am hoping you can help me” he said, as he slowly looked down at my name tag. He took his time reading it, as if burning the image of my name into his brain.
Then he sounded it out; “I-l-i-a-n-a...”
Fantastic. He now knows my name. I started to mentally sift through any programs that could allow someone to find your address and SIN number with just your first name. Even though I could think of none, I refused to take any chances.
“Oops! That is my co-workers nametag. Must have put on her vest by accident” I exclaimed with a nervous laugh that made him immediately suspicious. How did I know he became suspicious, you ask? You see, friend, when you meet the devil, you just know these things. This lie had an adverse unfortunately, as he tried to smile harder, for the love of god. It was as if he were in pain, the look on his face would have given children nightmares. Hell, it gave me nightmares.
“I’m looking for a red wine. It is for a date.” He said softly and without blinking, letting me know that I was fooling no one with my co-worker line.
“Sure” I said, willing myself to stay calm. “...on the other side here, is a really good Merlot.” The same colour as your victims blood, you son of a bitch, I thought to myself. I walked over to the Merlot on the wall at the other end. Grabbing the bottle from the shelf, I turned to witness a trick only the king of evil could perform. He magically appeared beside me, all that was missing was the *pop* sound. I nearly dropped the bottle, and quickly backed up into the shelves behind me.
“I’ll take it, you have been very...” he broke off and breathed in deeply “helpful, Iliana. Thank you.”
He purchased the wine (staring at me the whole time) then slowly stepped outside. He stood completely still for about 6 minutes and 24 seconds (yes, I timed it, wouldn't you??). I finally see the reason for his waiting; low and behold, up run 3 children. Or should I say, 3 of Satan’s spawns. One of my theories is that he murders single mothers, then steals their children and raises them as his own. Not that I thought long about it or anything... I was waiting for their heads to slowly turn toward me with the echo of “O Fortuna” playing in my ear. (Click here and read this entire section again. Go on... I dare you).
It was one of the most eerie experiences of my life.
But how did Frank turn into the man/psycho he is today? Usually at this point, I would go on to tell you what I learned about persona X. But in this case, seeing as he was a psycho murderer who knew my real first name, I didn't really feel up to asking him about his past. Sorry.
For this biography, I will be speculating on where he came from! Firstly, he must have grown up on a farm. Maybe his father had pigs, lots of people eating pigs. No mother though. He probably didn't have any friends growing up either, what with living on a farm with evil pigs and all. Maybe that is why he became so angry. According to an article from Edubook.com, a major sign that a child will turn into a serial killer is if he or she enjoys playing with fire. A lot.
So we all know what happened next then. He burned his farm to the ground (probably with his father and evil human flesh eating pigs still inside) and tralala-ed to the city to live the ‘dream’!
Let’s be Frank (see what I did there), we will never know where he actually came from (or where he buries the bodies). Do we really want to know? Probably not.