I have a name for the killer and you lucky readers will be the first to hear it.
The Moonlight Killer.
My exact reasoning has a bit to do with the full moon and a lot to do with something else that I’m not going to go into right now.
After chasing down the last of my leads I know we’re dealing with a possible serial killer. I’m waiting for the chief to talk with me – right now he seems to be overwhelmed with the new job, which I can’t blame him for. But he better get his butt in gear and start asking the right questions. The next full moon is soon.
As for what you came here for – the strange and unusual – here’s the weekend report.
Mrs. Gigham has started a recycling bin brigade to try and keep the theft of the little green bins to a minimum. The problem is no one knows what they are protecting them from and most people are afraid of Mrs. Gigham.
Animal control was called by hikers who reported a scraggly looking wolf near the trails. However, they were not able to find or nor any tracks of it.This has led to more controversy over whether or not the trails should be closed or opened again. To be honest I can’t keep up with whether they are opened are closed anymore.
And, I got to take a trip to Bitter Animals Wildlife Refuge and relive some great childhood
traumas memories. I was following up on an anonymous tip from a secret source about the possibility of illegal animal testing and UFO sightings, not together.
Sadly, while there I didn’t see anything. No rabbits in make-up or bears using conditioner. I did get to check out some of my old haunts, places my dad used to take me. Leave me. Use me as bait.
I found Mr. Bear, my old stuffed toy hanging from a branch near a cave. Dad used to have me reach for it which would pull on a branch I now see is home to a large squirrel-like nest. Upon further investigation, I found tiny outfits and miniature weapons scattered on the ground.
While running away from an armed chipmunk I came across a spot we used to picnic. The lake was the same as I remembered. A greenish brown with thick fuzzy pads floating on top. The stench of stagnant water and sewage carried on the breeze.
What struck me most was seven domes floating on the water and the beavers, at least I think that’s what they were, coming out of them and chasing me down.
There’s no place like home, folks.