Chuck tried to date girls,
But he had little luck.
He thought maybe it was The way he smiled,
Or the way he dressed,
Or the way he always seemed to stammer a bit when excited too much.
He ignored his small failures for many years.
But near his fortieth birthday, he began to fear
That perhaps he would never find
"The One" that so many people around him seemed to have found.
So he called on a hooker.
Chloe, if I recall correctly.
She begged not to screw him.
She pleaded as best she could.
She even offered to pay him.
So, Chuck did what any man in his position would have done:
He snapped her neck,
And as the bone crushed under his hands,
He felt a surge of life run through his body.
He’d finally found his calling.
Everything was finally right.
She was dead, and he was so alive.
He also realized that day why he’d failed all along:
He wasn’t a lover, he was a killer.