Victim’s Penis Cut Off As Trophy
What do you do after stabbing a guy? Why, you cut off his dick as a memento, of course! An Australian man who stabbed a male nurse 41 times, cut off his victim’s penis to keep as a souvenir and later told a friend that he’d “done something very wrong“. (Ya think???)
The 30-year-old killer was a boarder at the victim’s home in Brisbane when he, the homeowner and a third man engaged in a sex act. Perhaps unable to deal with his homosexuality, the perp stabbed the homeowner 41 times, 16 cm. into his neck and chest. Then the madman posed the corpse for photos with props including a pot plant. (This is why marijuana is illegal, people!)
After this, he shoved a pair of nail scissors up the cadaver’s nostril and put band-aids over his eyes with dots drawn on them. He the cut off the deceased man’s penis, wrapped it in Glad Wrap (not to be confused with Saran Wrap) and put it in a salt bottle to “keep it as a souvenir.” The victim’s testicles were severed and left in the kitchen sink while the murderer went on a heroine binge after the killing. The trial continues…
First We Burn It, Then We Stab It
What I’m describing in the title of this blog is my left index finger.
About a week ago I was making home fries in my cast iron skillet. One of my girlfriends accidentally set fire to one of two hot towels I own and the one hot towel was not adequate for my needs.
The burn left from the scorching first formed into a water filled blister. Now it looks as though some type of rat, or other rodent, has been gnawing upon it.
In the midst of all this, I attended a BBQ for the Labor Day holiday. I decided to make shish-kabob with chicken, peppers, onions and fresh pineapple. I carefully tried to avoid the noxious burn, which I did successfully.
In my painstaking care to steer clear of my existing wound, I also managed to stab myself with the wooden kabob stick. Luckily, the splintery tip of which was loosened from my flesh when soaking my finger in salt water, as suggested for my burn.
Why is it that once a part of the body is hurt, one cannot help but to further aggravate it? Or is it that you don’t notice how much contact a part of the body has on the daily basis: you never notice how many there are of a certain car until you start thinking about buying that particular vehicle.
Once in the sixth grade I fell on top of my bicycle while walking it. I wound up having to get six stitches in my ankle. I can’t ever remember banging my sore ankle more.
The main point is that it’s not a good week for my left index finger. Healing is slow and painful, not to mention aesthetically displeasing altogether.
More news at 11.
$@bs
