The One About Ann Rule

Category: weekleez

The One About Ann Rule’s Book About My Murder
May 13, 2003

Warning: This Weekly is Rated ‘R’ for fictional graphic descriptions of violence and gore.

hi kids,

listen, if you ever find out that Ann Rule has written a book about me, please, don’t read it. for those of you who don’t know who Ann Rule is or what she writes, well, lemme tell ya, she’s a writer what writes about true crime. because there’s never enough of that stuff out there. it all started with The Stranger Beside Me which pretty much just fell into her lap seeing as how she was a one Mr. Thedore Bundy’s cow-orker. And apparently she’s been stuck in that genre ever since.

so if in the future you happen to run across a book of her’s entitled something like The Broken Pickle Jar or Pickle Juice: Death by Poison or even In a Pickle: The Death of a Struggling Fleegan just promise me you won’t read it. when you see her book about me on the best-seller shelves just know that first of all, i’m probably dead. second of all, my murder was undoubtedly gruesome and a great mystery. and thirdly, my murderer had plotted my death for years and was probably someone very close to me…a family member for sure.

but please, don’t read that book. honestly, let my violent murder remain a mystery in your eyes and merely say a prayer for my soul which will probably be in hell for making fun of that old guy the other day, yelling at god for “not paying attention” (my words, not his), and for crushing lightning bugs against the sidewalk to make streaks of that yellow-green glow-y stuff when i was little. children can be so cruel. that’s why we invented hell.

so when you see that thick paperback with the really neat cover that has this hot chick being strangled by mysterious black-gloved hands (oj?), just…let it go.
i know you’re curious. i know you want to know whodunit. heck, i wanna know whodunit, but please, trust me, it’s not a pretty story. it probably doesn’t have any steamy sex-scenes or action-packed car chases either.

now true, my murder will be a disgusting barage of violence and torture, and Ms. Rule will most assuredly paint my murder in colors of red, dark red, reddish brown, hot pink and organic shapes of sin and death. but please, don’t read that book.

i am certian that Ms. Rule will no doubt do my murder justice in her massive description of the crime scene which will probably take up a chapter and a half of grusome detailic drama. her descriptions of all the sights, smells, textures; the sounds of the blood dripping off the ceiling, the stenches, the gore of the flesh-eating disease that has eaten off my face and upper-body as a means to cover up the real murder…my body…riddled with bullet holes and cat sick. but please don’t read that book. just don’t.

in fact, i’d bet my left arm that Ms. Rule’s supposition of how my murder went down will be full of chilling suspense and drama and she’ll tell how i valiantly fought against the assailant and nearly saved myself by turning the gun, knife and broad sword back on the evil murderer. when in fact, that is not how it would have happened at all, and i really just screamed like a girl while my murderer stabbed my trembling, soon-to-die body with bullets and ice cubes.
don’t read it.

and when it gets to the part where Ms. Rule tells who the caustic killer is, when she unmasks the sick bastard murderer villain and goes into great detail of how he/she (i dunno, i haven’t read the book yet) plotted, planned and gained great pleasure from removing me from the land of the living and placing me on Charon’s rotting boat, she will have done so making you feel so sorry for me and my gruesome untimely demise, making your heart ache for the family that i left behind (a loving husband and two very precious now motherless children, a sweet cocker-spaniel and a red jeep).

i just want you to know, that after she’s pushed and pulled your emotions, after she’s made you nauseated with bloody descriptions of severed limbs hacked off with old, rusty, lead pipes, blood…gushing and congealing and caked, swollen organs and bursting eye balls. when she grosses you out with sickeningly mawkish scenes of my children’s last words to me as i left that fateful night, “wuv you mommy” and “pwease bwing us ice cweam”, when she has completely made you her bitch by controlling your feelings and emotions, i just want you to remember that i told you not to read that book.

that book is Ann Rule’s book and she’s the one who made all the money from it. she’s the one who went around pestering my poor family about all the yummy details of my murder so’s that she could make another “killing” on the best-seller list. god, i can’t believe you read that book.

actually i’m sure that Ms. Rule is a nice lady. and her books must be suitably wonderful because i think she’s sold like, 400 bazillion (at last count) books in the last 20 years all starting with The Stranger Beside Me which now plays on the USA Network about twice a week i think.

and if you’re still reading, you might be thinking, “why does jaimie think someone is going to kill her?” well, see that’s not how i came up with this weekly at all. see what happened was that i was reading an old “family” (not gay) favorite, Oedipus Rex and i thought about how Sophicles wrote it as all dialogue mostly. it’s just people standing around talking and i thought it would be cool if someone else wrote it again and maybe put a bit more action in it…more than just a shepard walking up, y’know? so i thought WWARD?
i’m thinking she would have a tough time with the chorus part, but that maybe she could have it be a police scanner or something.

but that was going to be way too involved for a weekly. so i opted for the chunder you’ve just read.

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