Imagine, if you will, dear listener, a huge man sitting alone in his apartment. He’s not so much fat as he simply is big. Yes, he has a significant paunch, but his arms and legs are muscular and he is broad shouldered. Most of all he is tall. The apartment seems almost comically small when he sits in the living room. Edmund Kemper has blood on his hands, and he is looking at them. A few moments ago, he returned from his first foray into sexualized predatory murder and he is both elated and disappointed.
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