JOURNAL ENTRY 5 - I MAY EVEN CRY

It is going to go exactly like this.

Firstly, I will do the Good Samaritan scenario at the Hospice Ward. You know; bring him some grapes, yes, seedless grapes, in order to look normalized, stable and friendly. Lean back, forward, say prayers, that sort of silly shenanigans. I usually look out a window before I instigate the procedure, so I see no reason to change that now. I began doing it about four years ago, whilst I was chopping off a mans hand in his own Kitchen. I found it both pleasing and humorous at the same time.

Then, following a brief second of melancholy reasoning, I will insert a tiny drop of liquid Morphium-Scopolamin straight down his throat; tiny drops, not a large amount, just enough to stop his heart beating. Morphium-Scopolamin achieves death as fast as any act, it is an amazing chemical that should be used far more often. Almost impossible to trace, especially if there is no suspicion of any malice.


I shall remain fully confident that the coroner will be a total workaholic with no reason to doubt this man simply faded away. Isn't it quite reasonable that this mans engine would seize?. If you were a Coroner, would you even bother checking for clues?
Exactly.

After he moves on, I shall continue to sit there awhile, even talking to him in a warm way, specially if there are witnesses. I may even cry. I will feel no fear of suspicion. I will feel no guilt. I will not even remember the reality of remorse. I will seem both gravely concerned and shocked at all times. I may even ask to see a priest if I think I can achieve the act of communicating with such a thing.

Then, at about 2pm, I will depart from the scene of the dream, where I shall spend a few hours at the National Gallery taking in the air. There, I shall review my list on a tiny red antique seat that is located on the first floor, right across the way from a Jack. B. Yeats Painting. I may add a name, I may even cross one off, who knows?