A hunting buddy of mine long time ago killed a guy in South America somewhere. Him and his buddy hired some hookers. After they finished up, there was some discrepancy about how much was owed. The pimps got involved with guns a blazin. My buddy whipped out his knife and stabbed one guy in the gut and eviscerated him. All he remembers from there was his guts falling to the floor as they ran off...
I sleep next to one every night... that is when he isn't busy being a dickhead.
Murderer is sorta harsh though. He is very kind and gentle with me. He sorta didn't have a choice in the matter. Was either kill or be killed. But it freaks me out *a little* that he was in the situation that he was in. I asked him once why he kept going back even when he could have left. His answer? I knew how to kill people. Didn't really know how to do anything else. That sorta sent a chill down my spine.