A black 1963 Buick LeSabre Four-Door Hardtop sped down the old country-road. The Driver-side window rolled down as air flowed through the vehicle and onto the Driver's calm face. A red pair of fuzzy dice were on the mirror, and in the passenger seat lay a silenced Colt 1911 and a large, sharp, butcher knife. The old stereo quietly played 'Time Is On My Side'. The Driver, Jackmier, looked at his watch and grinned; 4:30 AM...Plenty of time. He sped on, sixty miles and hour down the old country-road over 30 miles outside of civilization, or in this case, Berlin. The road was clear, and for the most part the car was quiet...Then came a noise.
Bump Bump Bump
It was a faint noise, and slow at that. Jackmier grinned widely. His mind running with ideas of what the sound could be, but knowing exactly what it was in his heart. He slowed down, realizing his stop was coming up quickly. 66 miles outside of Berlin, a small lake, a cabin with a concrete basement...It was perfect. He turned off the road, onto an even more unstable dirt path, stopping just outside the Cabin next to the walkway that would lead to a boat. Jackmier slid out of the car, and strolled to the trunk. With a pop the trunk flew open and there lay a bloodied, mutilated, living man. The man was no older than 30, black bowl-cut hair, and broken spectacles. Jackmier grinned at the man, giving him a wink and walked back to the driver seat. He leaned into the car, and took the butcher knife and Colt into his hands. Walking back to the trunk, he began to whistle along to the Rolling Stones, happy as could be and on a high like never before. He looked at the man, his tears mixing with the blood on his bruised face, and gave another wink.
"Do you like swimming son? I simply love swimming!" Jackmier replied with an obnoxious chuckle.
He then raised the Colt to the man's head and fired four consecutive shots. The once circular puggy-skull turned to mush by the third shot. The fourth simply being for chuckles. Jackmier continued to whistle, as he carved into the man's bruised neck, simply cutting it fully for good measure. Afterward, he drug the bloody, mangled, and mutilated Male Nurse out of the trunk, and kept him wrapped up in the table cloth he used to keep blood from soaking the car flooring. Then, he drug the corpse along the walkway, and tossed it into the lake like so many other poor men and women prior.

Jackmier looked at his watch, 5:15 AM...Time to head back to the office already. Jackmier gave a frown, and strolled back down the walkway to the trunk, closed it, and hopped back into the car. As the engine roared to life, the next track began to play on the cassette, Jackmier whistled along as he drove back onto the dirt path, and onto the road again. His crime unpunished, his urge fed, and his mind clear. Just another night, for the Day Doctor Jackmier Karkaff of the Berlin Institute of Medical Science.