Such a senseless waste. That is all I could think as I saw the mind numbing poo floating in the bowl. It was clearly insensate. I was certainly not clear and clearly not. It was indeed a total negation, a nothing doing nothing nowhere. A figment caught out of the coroner of my eye. I don't know why my eye has a coroner, perhaps because of all the mysterious deaths constantly turning up in the corona of my cornea. Cut it out!

There is still all that tea to explain. I don't know where it came from as yesterday night I had no tea (there is that damn nothing again!) in the house except for a small box of sleepy time tea with that adorable little bear on the box; his teeth red from killing, his claws short from digging holes to hide the bodies. Fun little drawings...

This is no explanation. It's kind of a dodge, really. But some things can't be explained. Or at least, they can only be explained by diligent attention and work, which sounds kind of boring, so I'll just leave it unexplained.

Anyway, you're probably wondering why I've called you all here. It's to reveal, finally, the name of the murderer. He is in this room. In fact, he is someone you all know. You've read his semi-daily postings on diaryland.com. He is writing one right now... he is

Arrrgh!

How did this knife get in my chest? It must have been suicide. Or an accident. I accidentally stabbed myself sixteen times in the chest. All the pieces fit. All the suffering makes sense. Oh, wait... no... it was senseless. Such a senseless waste...

Reading the letters column in McSweeney's Quarterly Concern
Wishing I could go home and rest. It's been a long week...
Plotting my weekend adventures out in meticulous detail