The Perfect Murder

There’s someone that you want to kill, but ride it out, avoid the rope? You’d spare the chair in prisonville? Then I am here to give you hope! Number one, you don’t want blood. Don’t be Wilson, be Joe Starrett. You’ll never come to any good the day you spill your victim’s claret. Blood will give the game away. They’ll find the pattern on the wall, connect you to his DNA. You’ve never heard of Luminol? And throw away that mobile phone. The slowest of slow learners? Read my lipsalve, Al Capone – nothing’s safe – not even burners! You ditched the stiff in some dark wood, so far away, you drove for hours – the cops can prove the spot you stood, while pinging off the local towers! You’re seeking an illicit gun (in London slang, a ‘moody shooter’). Want a tip? I’ll give you one – don’t type it on your home computer! You won’t believe what suspects ask. Do ligatures require a knot? Where can I buy a full-face mask? How long do bodies take to rot? The first thing that the cops will do (believe me – it’s no mystery) is take your Dell and rummage through the questions in your history. It’s mushrooms that you need to use: they’ll do the job, without a doubt: put Dapperlings in your ragouts, Destroying Angels (check them out). Eat some yourself, but check the dose. Be plausible. Moan loud, and puke. It bothers you, to get so gross? We’re killers, pal – not Daisy Duke! Leave no fragments in the fern. You want your partner/mother dead? Shun that gun, friend: spurn the burn: deathcaps are the way ahead!