September 4, 2010.
There she is. Number thirty-six. Dark brown hair, dark brown eyes, caramel colored skin. She’s perfect. Although, I must admit, I did question whether she was the right one or not. But then I thought, well...Nevada DID belong to Mexico once upon a time, so I think I was right to pick a Mexican girl. And a showgirl...come on! You don’t get more Nevada than that.
Hold on a sec...okay, there we go. She turned on the bedroom light. About another ten minutes and she’ll turn on the shower... and then! Number thirty-six will take her place in history.
*sigh* Ten minutes to kill. I guess I could start doing my research on number thirty-seven. Let’s see...thirty seven, thirty-seven...ah! Here it is. State number thirty-seven. Nebraska. Hmm. Farmer’s daughter maybe? I think that’s gonna be one of the quick states. Then after that, there’s only thirteen left. Man, time goes so fast. It seems like only yesterday that I spotted number one. Miss high and mighty Delaware. I wonder if the police ever found her fingers? Well, no matter. It’s not like they’d fit back on her hand any more anyway.
Whoops! Looks like number thirty-six has just picked her clothes out for tomorrow. Now that presents an interesting quagmire. Do I leave her in the buff? Or do I put her in the clothes she has so carefully chosen for tomorrow? I suppose I could do both...leave part of her one way and part of her the other. I wonder if Ted Bundy ever had this problem?
Well...it’s almost two-thirty. She should be ready for her shower soon. What crazy schedules these showgirls keep. Honestly! They should be paid extra just for working at those God-forsaken hours. I wonder what fool came up with the idea of having an eleven o’clock topless show? Had to be some sad, pathetic, got-nothing-else-to-do-on-a-Monday-night man.
Oh! Shower just came on. The clock reads two twenty-nine. Time for me to get to work.
Signing off for now.