My Old Flame

My old flame
I can't even think of his name
But it's funny now and then
How my thoughts go flashing back again
To my old flame
My old flame
My new lovers all seem so tame
For I haven't met a gent

I've met so many men
With fascinating ways
A fascinating gaze in their eyes
Som who sent me up to the skies
But their attempts at love
Were only imitations of
My old flame
I can't even think of his name
But I'll never be the same
Untill I discover what became
Of my old flame

(Music & Lyrics by: Arthur Johnson / Sam Coslow)

"Fascinating ... you say?" Detective Archer muttered, more to himself than to the suspect, who was cheerfully seated on the other side of the table and being enthusiastically cooperative. He was also quite barking mad, a sick but dangerous preditor who had kidnapped, raped and murdered at least two dozen young women over many years. This case was going to earn him a citation and maybe even a promotion.

"Oh, Yes, yes, yes, indeed! They all had a fascinating way about them; that certain gaze in their eye! They wanted me to collect them! To keep them save and protected!" The earnest short man declared sincerely.

"Protected ... you say? You kidnapped twenty-three women that we know of so far, twenty-one of which you kidnapped, raped, strangled, raped their dead bodies again, cut off their heads and then buried their bodies in a shallow grave. You then shrunk their heads and used them to decorate your house."

"Exactly! I tended their lovely shrunken heads and their graves with great care. I even put out flowers every Sunday!"

"Quite so. That made it easy for us to find most of the graves, but why hadn't you strangled the two girls that we found in your barn? You'd kept Mary Milligan alive for over two years!"

"Jenny I'd only had for a short time and I liked the way she screamed at me. I was going to strangle her soon! Mary ... well, she had been a Catholic school girl and she discovered that she enjoyed being raped ... and that took most of the fun out of keeping her. I couldn't strangle her either; she kept telling me no, so I didn't know what to do with her!" Our mass murderer showed remorse at this, that his victim had told him, rather firmly apparently, that she most definitely did not want to be strangled ... and he conceded.