Wispid

An aspiring horror novelist had his girlfriend’s torso in his closet…one of her legs in the refrigerator and some bones in a cereal box.

Her flesh had been boiled but uneaten.

Police found a rough draft of a novel titled – “Cannibalistic Instincts.”

There were chunks of fried meat in the the skillet.

What happens when love goes sour?

Or is it the extreme that a novelist will go to get that real thriller?