“I thought, since I had a few hours to kill before the killing begins, I could put it all down. Maybe when someone hears this, they’ll understand the motives for the terrible thing that I have to do, and maybe it won't seem quite so terrible then. Or maybe I’ll just come off as another nut. A really, really misogynist nut.

“But mostly, telling the story is a way to pass the time, as I have my laptop here, and its excellent voice recognition software understands my nuances of tone, and I like to talk. Sandy used to say that I talked sometimes for no other reason than to hear myself – but, that was all right with her, she'd say, because she liked to hear me, too. Then she’d laugh and kiss me.

“Ah, Sandy. What happened to Sandy served to shut me up considerably. Not entirely, mind you, but I’ve learned to listen a lot more since then. And while I used to extol the wonderfulness of life and bless the luck I’d had in it, after what happened to Sandy, I mostly took to long silent reflections on what a shit pile my life had become.

“But if I continue in this whiny vein, no one will want to hear the rest of this, no matter how much mass-murderer notoriety I accumulate.”