Posted by NL on October 04, 2008 at 14:18:21:
Barstow
Barstow Briscuit was a serial killer. That much is now widely known. The man made himself something of a legend. He once dreamed of creating a kind of down home and folksy eatery. First there would be one, and then popularity and success of that one would lead to a chain and them a franchise and then they would spread like some dread disease and then on every street corner, on every block, in every city, you would see the flashing neons advertising: GOOD EATS! GOOD EATS! Country Biscuits and country briscuits and square-cut hams and general heaps of grits and gravy and beans and finally the great and special specialty of the house: cow flop fritters! Of course, they would not be real cow flop fritters. They would be real fritters but not fritters made out of cow flops. Barstow had noted long ago that a cow flop at a certain period in its life would sometimes come to greatly resemble a fritter. And he had also noted that a fritter frequently resembled a cow flop. He collected a cow flop once, thinking to preserve it and use it as a model for a fritter. Prescient! Alas, Barstow's dreams never came to fruition because he got side-tracked into the somewhat dicey and razor-edged life of a famous serial killer, a killer they never caught. We only know about Mr. Briscuit because of a memorandum he left behind, before he left the country. We know from that memorandum that Barstow intended to continue to be a serial killer, but in another part of the world. We do not know what part of the world that was because he covered his tracks really well. God Speed Barstow Briscuit! We can only thank Mr. Briscuit for detailing his career in THIS country, before he fled. Otherwise, we might not ever have known of him. I can share with you some details from his "confession".
Well, first of all he says that the first girl he ever got involved with in a serial killer way, although he didn't actually kill her, was a kind of a kinky girl he met in college. She was suicidal. She had terrible self-esteem. She dated Barstow for a while, and she came to like him enough to share a little fantasy. She told him she wanted someone to make love to her while she died of an overdose, of sleeping pills. Barstow considered the proposition. He could do it, he thought, and no one need ever know. She could take the pills she always kept handy, she could lay down naked in her bed in her little off-campus apartment, and Barstow could be there with her and fuck her while she went to sleep, forever. This is an incident Barstow describes in detail. He called it his first kill but, really, he was not a killer, as such, in this instance. He describes how his girl friend began to puke at one point, but since he was sodomizing her, it didn't really bother him. She was face down and she didn't have much in her stomach anyway. A few of the pills came up, but she'd taken so many, she died anyway. He washed her face later, turned her over, pulled her off the bed, and fucked her corpse on the floor. It looked kind of like she might have tried to get out of bed and died on the way to the bathroom. He snuck out later, feeling very, very, satisfied. He'd really enjoyed fucking her dead body and he knew he'd have to do that again sometime, with some other woman. What he regreted was having to leave a scene that would look like a simple suicide and not a murder or something kinky. For instance, he really wanted to take a knife from the girl's kitchette and experiment with stabbing her and cutting her, after she was dead. It was something he'd discussed with her while she planned her suicide. She had big breasts and when she lay on her side, he realized that he could drive a knife through both breasts as they rubbed against each other, pinning them to the mattress. He told her how he might open her lower belly and spill out her intestines. All these things she seemed very interesting in hearing. They turned her on. She asked him if he would dump her body in the bathtub and cut her up. Yeah, he said, I guess I could do that. She said he could cut off her arms and legs and head and he said he'd just like to cut her head off and maybe it would be fun to fuck her headless corpse. Then she thought about being dumped somewhere. She seemed to want to be dumped somewhere so she could turn green and get maggots in her body. Barstow thought that was cute. She thought she would turn green but in reality she would swell up and turn black. He described how she would swell up, how she would in a short time in the sun come to resemble an obese black lady with her tongue sticking out and her eyes popping out of her head. She laughed at that and they made love again. This was only a few days before she killed herself.
Barstow
confesses that he continued to study food service and hotel management
and thought about GOOD EATS but at that point he wanted to put the
flesh of dead girls in his GOOD EATS. The cow flop fritters woud not
contain cow shit, but they might just contain a morsel of dead girl. He
mentions that he must have been a little crazy. It was so hard to make
a go of the restaurant business, and it was so hard to get a loan to
start one! He worked part time, continued his college studies, and
wondered when and how he would manage to kill again-- really kill this
time. He bought a knife and he bought a .22 revolver, a tiny thing, and
managed to build a really effective silencer for it. He tested it in a
little house he rented, shooting .22 slugs into a crude dummy he'd made
from panty hose and some women's clothing he'd found in his garage,
left behind by the previous tenant. There was enough women's clothing
to make a kind of love doll, a love doll stuffed with rags and pillows
and sofa cushions. He tested his silencer by shooting .22 short
ammunition into that surrogate for a woman's body. He got a hard on
doing that. It really felt good, and he came to love the smell of
gunpowder while he masturbated.
His first real kill, as he
described it, was a pretty furtive act, and although he describes it as
"exciting" and as a "turn-on", still, it was not what he really wanted.
He went for a drive one evening, in the little Renault sedan he owned
at that time, looking for a likely victim. He had his .22 with him,
silencer attached. He spotted a little "QUIKEE Mart" with no cars
around. He parked in front. He had only wanted a coke but he saw a
pretty good looking middle-aged gal behind the counter, all alone. She
had blonde hair, good breasts, a nice face-- why not, he thought? He
says in his confession that the blood was beating in his head so hard,
he felt faint. His vision was not quite right. He entered the store,
walked up to the register, and as soon as the woman looked at him, he
lifted the .22 and started shooting. He put six bullets into her. The
first two went into her chest. She went down on her knees and started
crawling away. He shot her three more times in her back. She sprawled
face down on the linoleum behind the counter, and the last bullet went
in the woman's head, making her bonde hair fly up. A little fountain of
blood came out of the hole in the back of the woman's head, and that
was the first blood he'd seen. Then all of a sudden there seemed to be
a lot, spreading on the floor, and he got out of there. He says he had
a raging hard-on but he also described himself as "scared shitless". He
forced himself to drive away slowly and carefully. He circled around,
out of that neighborhood, until he felt calmer and then drove home. And
it wasn't until he got home that he realized that he had not once
checked to see if there was any kind of security camera! He spent the
next few weeks watching the news and reading the papers, to see if
there were any suspects. There was a picture of the woman in the
newspaper a few days later, when the killing was being described as
"senseless", when it was clear there would be no leads and he would get
away with it. He cut that picture out. He masturbated over it, many
times.
Barstow Briscuit managed several more killings and managed at last to fuck some dead female bodies. He killed with his .22 three more times and used his knife once. What is really interesting though, is that he gave up his dreams of GOOD EATS and used his savings to buy stock in Microsoft. A little voice he says, told him to save and invest, and told him what to invest in. And indeed his investments were very sound. He started a little business doing swimming pool maintenance. He got married and had two daughters but there were problems in the marriage that he does not fully describe. There was a divorce. He mentions a strong desire to go away, to a land where law enforcement is lax and life is cheap, and begin to live again the life of a serial sex killer. And that is what Mr. Barstow Briscuit finally did. I suspect that Mr. Briscuit is living in Mexico today. We have reason to believe he spoke Spanish fluently, since he describes murdering a young spanish woman in the back room of a commercial laundry. That's the time he used his knife. He describes how that girl stripped for him and laid down on the floor to be raped. But he stabbed her repeatedly in her belly and her breasts first. He finally raped her dead body. Fortunately for him, the laundry had a restroom where he could clean up, and he found clothing, freshly laundered clothing in fact, to take the place of his own blood stained clothing. Plenty of plastic bags were available too, and he made good use of them.
The
confession, or memorandum, ends shortly after the laundry murder. He
describes his plans to leave the country and he describes his
intentions. But he leaves not enough detail for anyone to put their
finger on him. Perhaps someday Mr. Briscuit will be caught! But until
then we can only say: Godspeed Barstow Briscuit! Take some pics, will
you? Post them on the internet! Share, why don't you? And we are all
really happy that you gave up that stupid GOOD EATS idea and started to
do something more practical and interesting with your life!