Prove you are not Ted Bundy!

 

I have just moved to a new place, and my landlord/roomie/savior is a woman. She picked my name off of Craig’s list, much to her friends'
consternation and worry.

“How do you know he’s not some Ted Bundy type?”  they asked her.

“Well, my dogs liked him.”, she answered.

We were talking about this in her kitchen, which is fabulous and everything works and it is uninhabited by OCD males threatened by my competence and friendliness ( see previous residence, nuff said).  We get along pretty damn good, and she mentioned her friends’ objections.  Which I can appreciate.  I might say the same thing to a lady friend who had picked a boarder off of Craig’s List.  But I was stuck.  How do I prove I am not a serial murderer?

I can’t just act like a normal person.  That’s what all serial murderers do, right up to the point where they put your flayed skin on them like a Christian Dior bathrobe.  Also, I’m not that normal.  Should I let a little bit of my quirky side leak through?  No, serial murderers sometimes do that too.  And getting quirky on a new roomie in the first month might get you kicked out. As a former host I have noticed that quirky behavior tends to telescope into freaking nutbar as one gets more comfortable in the roost.

It’s a classic question, up there with how do you hide from a blind man with a gun or how the hell is Ron Paul considered to be a Republican.  So far, the only thing I can figure is to kill something in front of her.  That would be the last thing a Serial killer would do in front of a potential victim.  But kill what?  Killing a human being would defeat the purpose, and it can get so messy.  A dog or a cat is beyond me as I love them both.  Harper Lee won’t let me kill a mockingbird.  An insect?  Maybe.  But what kind of commitment to sanity is that?  I shall prove my soundness of mind by ending the life of this spider in a humane way without gibbering insanely about past sexual failures.  Hmm. Maybe.

Perhaps science has the way.  Is the PH balance of a serial killers' skin different?  A simple litmus trick might do it.   What would the fine officers on of the CSI shows do?  Perhaps there are some special kind of interrogation questions that would reveal the Bats in the Belfry fluttering about the cranium of a Son of Sam copy cat.  Hell, just bring Ice T over and have him scope you out.  That would keep most people on the straight and narrow.  Or at least the straight.  I’m sure social psychologists know of a sure fire system, but it probably costs several thousand dollars and requires the presence of several social psychologists, which is hardly an improvement over the presence of a serial killer.  And how do you tell if the social psychologists are sane?  They might be serial killers too!  What better cover for one than to disguise yourself as a serial killer detector.

I guess we are left with trust and hope, two things in very short supply these days.  Our economy seems to work the best by eradicating these items with the commodities of fear, suspicion and avarice.  Fear is always on sale, and Walmart has a special on avarice this week.  And I
don’t want to upset the Golden apple cart by starting a trend of decency.

If my new Landlady is reading this, I promise I have never killed anyone or anybody.  And as a Chicago blogger who has mortally insulted deep dish pizza, why would I lie at this point?

If you all have any advice, let me know.

Live long and prosper, folks.

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