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home to celebrate the news, but was greeted with horror at his monstrous sight. With his hopes of a warm welcome dashed, his chimp aggression took over and he went on a rampage before disappearing into the wild. He now haunts the fringes of society, longing for acceptance but angered by rejection. Jack the Knife Now on the sidewalk, sunny morning, lies a body just oozin’ life… - Mack the Knife, by Bobby Dari N ext in our files is a delightfully devilish fellow we call Jack the Knife. Perhaps you’ve heard of Jack the Ripper? Amateur. As dastardly as ol’ J. Rip was, he relied on tools to get the job done. Not so with our own Jack the Knife. Where your run-of-the-mill serial killer relies on finding the right tool for the job, Jack the Knife himself is a tool You see, long ago ol’ Jack worked in a slaughterhouse and he was good at his job. Wasn’t a heifer or porker he couldn’t break down in seconds. From grazin’ to ground beef in under a minute. Well, one night ol’ Jack had himself an unfortunate circumstance that led to his falling headfirst into the meatgrinder, Sweeney style. The other boys on shift managed to pull him free, but not before most of his head had become hotdog filler. Well, the boys felt awful about what had happened, but they had their quotas to meet and Jackieboy was already dead, so they laid his remains in the walk-in cooler til end of shift. What they couldn’t have known was ol’ Jack wasn’t content to stay dead. His will to live was strong enough that he took a deal with the devil to come back. Problem was, he didn’t have a head that wasn’t ground up and on the way to the casing room. Don’t ever accuse the devil of not having a sense of humor. He sent Jack back to his body and fused to it the giant slaughter knife that had been the tool of Jack's mortal trade. Infused with new demonic life and having no mind but that of a slaughter knife, Jack took to what came natural and carved his way through the men working at the slaughterhouse. No one knows what happened to Jack for sure, but he’s still out there, still doing what he does best… Phantom of the Phog And you know that I know that you ain’t got long now to last. Your looks and your feelings are just the remains of your past. - Phantom of the Opera, by Iron Maiden L ook at this photograph. Every time I do it makes me laugh. Every time it makes me remember with delight, the horrors attributed to the Phantom of the Phog. What do the Ghost in the Machine and Oscar Wilde have in common? Both draw from concepts that have existed since the early days of daguerreotype

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