"Are you ready Jim?"

"Yes, are you?"

"Hell yeah!"

So we got in the house and unlike most British home security this one was somewhat of a challenge, but I was able to bypass it. I saw a very nice and fancy house, not bad for a washed-up rock star. While checking out the house the washed-up rock star came: Pete Townsend of The Who. At first he only saw me and was shaking like he was in Antarctica.

"What the hell are you doing here?" He said while trembling in fear.

I responded back with one of his band's songs: "Who Are You? Who, Who? Who, Who? I know exactly who you are Pete. You're an ugly-ass dirty bisexual who's gonna die."

"Please let me explain…I was only experimenting back in the sixties, but I'm completely hetero now." He was saying this while he was walking backward in tears and I was walking forward toward him.

"I know you hate bisexuals more than any other group, but I was never truly a bisexual like Freddie Mercury. Please don't kill me! PLEASE! PLEASE!"

"Bitch, begging for mercy won't do you any good. Once you cross that line, there's no turning back mother fucker." I said coldly.

He was still walking backing but little did he know that Jim was only a metre away with The Solution. Then when he was in the right position Jim let him have it.

"WHACK!!!"

He was lying on the ground holding his back with one hand. Then Jim struck him again with The Solution. Now he was in a lot of pain. After that Jim pulled him up and held his head toward the wall. He smashed his face on the wall twice, making that fucked-up nose of his even more fucked-up.

"God damn, you were always ugly, but now you look like something that jumped out of the toilet bowl." I said.

"Stop it please! Stop it!"

"We're not done with you yet."

While Jim still holding Pete I told him to lay Pete on his chest at a table. Then I went into the kitchen and grabbed a grater.

"This will be perfect."

So I went back to the room where Jim and Pete are with the grater in my hand and I told him "Anybody who likes both dick and pussy should die."

Using the grater I did his own famous Windmill technique on his face. He was screaming in pain when I was grating his face. I was just laughing with pure joy.

After that I found one of his guitars and smashed it on him. From the wreckage of the guitar Jim thought of an idea. He took one of the strings from the guitar and started to choke him with it. In about a minute he was dead.

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Now we got back to Jim's place and I just drank a cup of milk before I went to bed. I was able to sleep better that night knowing that I had a very Good Friday. I can tell you one thing though, my Good Friday was much better than Harold Shand's or anyone one of my victims, LOL!

END OF PART 3