I'm Slightly Worried I May Become A Serial Killer

This evening I have been reading Wikipedia’s entries for Serial Killers, in order to while away the hours before bed.
I have always had this grotesque fascination with serial killers. I think it’s because ANYONE could be one. Your annoyingly loud next door neighbours? Serial Killers. The little old lady over the road? Serial Killer. That screaming kid on the bus? Serial Killer. The woman glaring at you in the post office? Serial Killer. Your other half? DEFINITELY a Serial Killer.
What is it that causes people to do these horrible things? You always hear in the stories that they were treated badly by their parents, or orphaned at a young age, or bullied at school. But in reality that’s just an excuse. Other people have gone through the same, sometimes worse, and don’t become serial killers. That we know about anyway.
What’s worse is that these people get married, go to work and have kids. I want to do all these things too. And I got bullied at school. Maybe I am on the brink of becoming a serial killer.
Apparently one guy became a serial killer when his Girlfriend dumped him after he was imprisoned for theft. He started killing to get revenge. Maybe all it’s going to take for me to become a serial killer is a nasty but not-too-awful shock. Maybe I’ll become one if next door’s cat gets run over, or the Co-op raise their prices any further.
The strange thing is, I can kind of understand killing someone. You know, someone really awful, like Saddam Hussein (I know he’s already dead, but let’s pretend for a second that he isn’t) or Tony Blair. I can even understand killing several people, like Saddam Hussein AND Tony Blair (two birds one stone!). What I really don’t get (and therefore am fascinated by) is cannibalism. HOW. DISGUSTING. And yet I love to read those “true stories” about it. They make me feel truly terrified, and I remember the guy I told you about that lives under my bed with a machete. (see “If I Bumped Into Derren Brown…”).
I am beginning to wonder if my strange fascination with the gory is a sign of my underlying serial-killerness, and whether I should warn my housemates/family before it is too late and I’ve had to store them in the loft. For one thing, I’m not so sure I can be bothered with all that lugging bodies around I’d have to do if I don’t warn them.

Another thing that I may have a problem with is my very oversensitive nose and gag-reflex. So I’ll have to think of a way to prevent the smell very early on in my serial killer career, I really don’t see how those guys who bury the bodies in their houses do it.

I’m also very squeamish. I can’t even watch Saw. I once watched “Creep” and had nightmares for weeks. So I’d have to find a nice way to kill people. Like, with a bunch of flowers and a poem. Or a romantic dinner for two.

I’d also feel a bit guilty about the amount of work I’m causing for the police, and the upset of their family members. There are two ways I could get around this. 1) I could kill their entire families and all the police or 2) I could leave a “sorry” card. I think I’m going to go with a sorry card as it seems like less effort. And everyone likes a card.

Another issue is that serial killers all have a type. And to be honest, I can’t think of a type. I couldn’t kill all the homosexuals because I’m not homophobic and my brother is gay, I have several friends who are either gay or lesbian, and I’d miss them. I couldn’t kill all the blacks because I’m not racist and again, I have several friends that I’d miss. I couldn’t kill all the Jews because I’m not anti-Semitic. Couldn’t kill all the people having sex out of wedlock because I’d be first on my list (I have definite proof I’m guilty of that).

You know, after all of that I think that Serial Killers make their lives too hard. Maybe I’m not going to be a serial killer after all.