Murder is a crime . . . yes, yes, it is, just checking. Unless . . . no, they couldn't, right? They didn't legalize murder, yet. Probably won't, too. So . . . what was that? Sorry, I didn't catch what you said. Kill, you say? No, I haven't, not yet. But, I might. Take all the murderers of the world; frankly, they're a waste of oxygen. They ought to be killed, off with their heads I say!
A hypocrite, you say? Me? Well, they don't deserve a second shot at life, if the victim didn't get one, then why should they? Lethal injection, hanging, and the electric chair, you call them cruel? I'll tell you what's cruel, vicious stabbing; strangling and gun shots are so. Line them up and knock them down, I say!
An eye for an eye; a life for a life, and a tuna sandwich for a . . . excuse me, I got side-tracked, it's lunch time. Prisons have one, too. Mike, the prisoner, is counting down his meals. His fifth, fourth, and eventually last, meal on this planet; just like Janet, the victim, except she never knew that tuna would be her last.
Kill them, I say! For it is only fair to rid them of the one thing the victim wanted, life, right? My middle name is hypocrite, don't blame me.
