Issue #09/90, May 11 - 25, 2000 
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I WANNA HOLD YOUR HAND
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Our first story begins in Texas in the late 1930s; more specifically, in 43-year-old Liz Korbett’s apartment. An investigator was called over to check her pad out, after neighbors had called in several times, worried about the screams of horror they heard every night. Olson, the
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"This little piggy didn't pay his krysha... this little piggy also didn't pay his krysha, and this little piggy... oh shit, I forgot what comes next!"
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It all began, however, with a combination of two of Liz’s unhealthy obsessions: writer Richard Meyer, and men’s hands. She had read Meyer’s works and became infatuated with the author. One night, she managed to arrange a meeting with Meyer, and they later ended up, conveniently, at her place. For eight days straight, she drugged him and cut off his fingers one by one. Meyer hasn’t written anything since.
As Korbett explained later in her memoirs, " The only thing that really turned me on was the gentle touch of a man’s hands. Most men couldn’t please me, but when I met someone who did, I kept his fingers for myself. I would use them over and over again…. I really liked Meyer’s romance novels, and I liked his hands. Beautiful books are written with beautiful hands. They should be saved."
NO DOUCHE, PLEASE
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Our fetish fun continues, as we head east to Germany. Meet Klaus Tsinge, a young boy taking brave steps toward manhood. Klaus’s main problem was that, unlike all the kewl kids in town, he was a regular, yet unhappy, member of the No-Nooky Club. At the tender age of 14, he found an "experienced woman" who was willing to educate him in the ways of noodle-stretching. His first encounter was not in the most
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"Hi there! I was just wondering if I could come into your house, sit down for a glass of vodka with you, then blow your head off and steal your toaster!"
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Klaus knew he had a problem after several attempts; despite the fact that he always went after older women, their fragrances just didn’t compare to that one night amongst the pile of dead fish. Seeking advice, Klaus wrote to an youth magazine’s columnist, describing his problem. The response was as follows: "You don’t need to feel uncomfortable about your unusual preferences. If that’s the kind of sex you like, then try to somehow replicate that aroma in your apartment. Or, find a girl who will understand you."
So Klaus went out to look for that special girl. From time to time, he found someone he really liked, but was unable to reveal his funky fetish. He even contacted the woman who had given him his first lesson in the fish warehouse, but she didn’t want to keep up relations with him, strangely enough, because of his "exotic conditions." But as it turns out, he just couldn’t wait any longer. He found himself a fish warehouse, which lucky for him, had a girl working in it. He stabbed her five times with a scaling knife that he found on the floor. He was later caught humping her corpse on a heap of dead fish.
A GREAT EXCUSE
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Our next tale of horror is about as twisted as they come. It all began one evening as 9-year-old Julia was returning home from school. She decided to take a shortcut home, despite the fact that it was already getting dark and there weren’t too many people around. She hadn’t gone too far when she began to hear a man yelling "Hey, you! Stop!" and somehow knew that he was calling after her. She tired to ignore him, but he was fast on her tracks. Julia stopped and turned around, finding a small dog accompanied by a man in a ragged jacket and dirty jeans who screamed at her to sit down. She sat. He kicked her.
Julia fell unconscious for a while, and when she came to, she was being molested by the drunken stranger, identified by Mir Kriminala only as "S." But that was just the beginning. He started cutting the 9-year-old’s stomach open little by little, and not only licked the blood off of her, but also ate small bits of her flesh. The dog tried to intervene, understanding that something was not quite right. The dog growled and then attacked its owner, trying to stop him. But "S" wasn’t about to be interrupted–he
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"Wow, this new Shiatsu massage really works! I've only been squeezing her air passages for ten minutes, and already she's in a deep slumber!"
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He somehow made it home and passed out. He woke up the next morning with a horrible pain in his stomach. He could barely get up, he felt so sick. Was it something he ate? Then he noticed how his clothes were filthy and covered in blood. He had absolutely no recollection of the previous night’s events. He began to panic, and called for an ambulance.
People had been worrying about "S" for quite a while now; he had started to come into work late in dirty clothes and reeking of alcohol. Sometimes he didn’t show up at all. No one wanted to intervene; most supposed it had to do with the recent car accident that had killed his wife and young daughter.
As it turns out, however, "S" was developing more than a bad drinking habit and sloppy work ethics. He had begun having blackouts, during which he appeared completely conscious, although he acted like a completely different person. This was the starting point for the psychiatrists to whom "S" was referred after his brief stay at the hospital.
"S" started hypnosis therapy, where he found out what he had been doing during his blackouts. Finally, during one session, he related what had happened with Julia. But in his hypnotic state, he referred to Julia as his daughter. That’s right, folks–the whole time, he thought that he was molesting, stabbing, eating, and raping his own daughter.
Needless to say, "S" is still undergoing intensive therapy, but who knows if it’s helping anymore. He was quoted as saying the following during one of his sessions: "I ate my daughter. I don’ t understand why I did it, I wish I hadn’t. She wasn’t very tasty."
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