Following a first cataract surgery with another scheduled in mid-March, I’m literally bumping my way through a 3-D kaleidoscopic life over the next month and a half. Once healed, my eyes will see the world in HD panorama. High density plastic lenses? Recycled and swapped for standard reading glasses. Yes, cool science has come through for this blue-eyed blonde who grew up in Nevada’s great outdoors—sans sunglasses. Ain’t life grand?
However, story will out. Within this very household, an exposed serial killer reveals himself via strewn limbs and mangled Awful Mad Kitty and Big Mean Kitty torsos. Reading further is not—repeat NOT—advised for the squeamish among you.
Nine months ago, we welcomed into our home a murderer, whose demeanor showed nothing of the impending catastrophe. Even as we allowed his tender looks and seemingly joyful attitude to lull us, his darker side took root. The rest of this story unfolds in pictorial devastation. WARNING: Graphic content of chilling mutilation follows.
I leave you with the knowledge that I am held hostage in this house by the perpetrator, even as a pile of ‘dead’ stuffed animals accumulates on my sewing box. Among the mortally wounded: Dirty Rotten Kitty, Real Mad Cow, Cold Hearted Snake, and Rocky Raccoon. Only when I can see well enough to mend the broken, the torn, the disemboweled, will this house be populated once more by squeaking plushies—lopsided though they may be.