Jeff knows how people think. He knows how people think he
thinks. He can see it all like a map inside his head. Everyone's so
stupid, perhaps even Sherlock Holmes? Or maybe God just loves Jeff?
Either way, he's wasted as a cabbie.
Jeff lives on his own. An estranged father, he has children who
he thinks about but doesn't get to see. Their mother took the kids,
but he still loves them and it still hurts.
He's keeping up appearances at the moment, but there's no point
in planning ahead. He wears clothes recently laundered but at least
three years old. Why? Because three years ago the doctors told him
he was a dead man walking. He doesn't have long as there is an
aneurysm, right inside his brain; any breath could be his last.
Risking his life five times just to kill strangers on a kamikaze
murder spree, Jeff sees himself as having outlived the four people
he murdered. That's the most fun you can have with an aneurysm!
He didn't just kill those people because he's bitter however,
bitterness is a paralytic, love is a much more vicious motivator
and when he dies his kids won't get much. There's not a lot of
money in driving cabs.
Jeff has a sponsor though. For every life he takes, money goes
to his kids. The more he kills, the better off they'll be. As far
as Jeff's concerned, murder is nicer than people might think.
Sherlock after all, isn't the only one to enjoy a good murder.
There's a name no one says and Jeff's not going to say it either.
Now enough chatter, time to choose which pill you want?