As the body count mounts, and as the grief-stricken parents of missing children watch every newscast,

just waiting in a surreal state of paralyzing terror, for some reported utter their child's

name, Gacy sits in a room in Cermac Memorial Hospital, the gears of his mind churning.

As he tries to figure out, just how exactly this is all going to play out, reflecting back

on the events of the last week, going over and over in his mind what he had told the police

in all those statements, contemplating whether or not he had played his hand correctly.

You see, the creep was a man of purpose.

He did nothing during his adult life that wasn't premeditated.

Every move he made was done with a particular end result that he sought or craved in mind.

Whether it be to marry a woman named Marilyn to position himself to become a linchpin in her

father's burgeoning fast food restaurant empire, which he did, ultimately managing three

Kentucky fried chicken restaurants, which were of course staffed with plenty of young

men.

He then opened a club of sorts in the basement of his marital home, where he would invite

his young male employees to come and drink booze and play pool.

Sound familiar?

The teenage girls?

Well, their invites must have gotten lost in the male.

He would of course apply these young men with booze and then make a move on them, and

if they were down, great.

If they weren't, well, I was just joking.

Just testing your morals, kid, or such as when he joined the local JC chapter to meet

...