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He's in the bathroom washing his face, trying to figure out where he went wrong this time. Why does this happen every time? He was sure this one wouldn't shun him. She was so friendly smiling at him every day when she bought the paper. Then she would happily walk back the five blocks home from the school. But this one was just like the rest, saying get out, why are you in my apartment. No you're crazy leave me alone. Over and over she said it until he had to make her be quiet.

Mother always said, "I want it quiet in here. Do you hear me dummy?"

That's what I told the redhead, "be quiet, I want you quiet. Please don't make me hurt you." But she did it. She made me make her be quiet. Walking back into her livingroom talking to himself, "I'll be in trouble again and dad will be upset with me." Scratching his head, working down the rest of his body he forgets what he was thinking about. If he sits here for awhile maybe he can figure out what to do. "I'll have to move her body, but where? Maybe down by the docks or at the dump. the cops are always finding bodies at those places. Why am I sitting here talking to myself? There's no way, how can I move her that far? I can't even drive."

Dad said, "sorry son, you would never pass the driving test."

"Yep, that's me the dummy. Can't remember the rules, to many rules for everything. If I'm such a dummy then why did the smart police people only find one of my redheads? Why couldn't they figure out why she doesn't talk anymore? They're the dummys."

The police found all eight of his redheads. He just didn't know they did. It wasn't something he talked about and he never read the papers at the newsstand.

"I need to remember how I moved the other ones. Relax, that's what I need, just relax. Ah, music it's wonderful at relaxing. It relaxes me smart. Then I'll think straight and figure this out."

Walking over to the wall unit he thinks what a swell set up. "How do I make it work. there we go push in the on power button. Whoa, to loud. We don't want to bother the neighbors. Oh boy lookey here a whole stack of those c.d things. But where do they go in?" he askes while looking at the machine. "Here we go right in here yeah Bruce Springsteen, the Boss. My kind of guy, a rebel who does things his way. Just like me." Swaying to the music he laughs, then realizes he is standing at the window. He looks out and jumps back. "Oh my God, did that little girl see me? She was looking right up here. She'll know I don't belong in this apartment.

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