All I wanted was a naughty dream last night. Instead of doing unmentionable thing with people I cannot mention I murdered someone. It was a strange dream, one where I decapitated someone and then flattened their head into a pancake and then, in a rush of panic, tried to tear their face into pieces and flush it down the toilet. Even though it was unexpected, and not what I wanted to dream about at all, it did teach me something.
I wouldn't be able to avoid the guilt of killing someone.
Therefore I will try my best not to take someones life.
The other night Scraps says to me, "If you were guaranteed a publishing contract worth millions of dollars would you strangle a stray cat to death?"
My response was, "What does the cat look like?"
Now of course, I was joking. I couldn't strangle any animal to death. This morning I saw a raccoon limping across the street and got a little weepy that he might not be making hit home to Mrs. Coon this evening. (Mrs. Coon sounds really bad...) But the point is, if I can't handle an injured animal, I highly doubt I could extinguish one's life.
I never understood hunting for sport. Here is my thing...
They say serial killers are often noted as children who like to hurt and kill animals. What is a hunter? They enjoy hunting and hurting animals. Actually, they feel a sense of pride to killing an unarmed four legged creature. Most hunters are taught from an early age how to kill a buck or bear, often holding their first gun before they even reach puberty. Deriving pleasure from hunting and killing is, in my opinion, wrong. It is also a sign to pinpoint potential serial killers in our youth. In conclusion, if we include hunting for sport in with our profile for serial killers then our demographic for crazy will be broader.
These are the thoughts I try not to share with people. And I just blogged them. Oops.
I wonder how many people who have committed murder hunted for sport in their life. I bet that would be an interesting statistic.