Okay, so about six or seven years ago I wrote a short story about a serial killer who kills his psychiatrist, using knives and what not. It's initially the beginning to the longest fucking short story in the history of man. It's spanned nearly a decade of a guy who's father (the psychiatrist) gets killed and he is left with an inheritance all while attending the New York University and fucking any chick with a pulse. It's been going on for the three years I went to Nassau and Farmingdale for a semester and then here. It's been going on for a long time, this story...and now it's a reality.
Apparently some dude weilding a meat cleaver went into a psychiatrists office and lit her up like a Thanksgiving Turkey. And stole about $60. I don't know if it's really worth it. He's been caught, as far as I know.
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