Carl was rather bored. It was a well known fact that when Carl was bored, he did his best to conquer that boredom with an iron fist (or a meat dragon). Paul was trying his best to read quietly in his room, and trying not to engage in any of Carl's schemes. He was doing rather well too, reading the newest edition of "Reader's Digest", which is rather impressive since he doesn't have arms.
He'd found over the past five years that the only light reading he could ever do anymore was with Reader's Digest, a name Carl highly approved of, to avoid Carl getting a hold of whatever the reading took form in. He knew that when Carl did get his hands on it he would soon be found: Reading it, finding it discontenting in some way, and killing an entire publishing company in their sleep, strewing their entrails across the streets.
It was at this point in time that he heard the screams. Paul closed his eyes and sighed heavily. Damn it Carl. He neatly closed his magazine, set it down, and headed down the stairs, ready to face whatever horror he came across. Carl had done a lot of fucked up shit in the five years Paul had known him, which was why Paul was hardly surprised when he saw the open corpse of a man, whose head and stomach had been sliced open with who knows what. Past that, Carl was standing there in a scarf and stilettos. He was finishing applying blood to his lips when he saw Paul.
"Hello Paul. We have been friends for a long time, and I always see you in that rather feminine hat, and so this is me respecting your lifestyle choices." Paul just stared unblinking. "This is me dabbling in the fine art of cross-dressing." Paul's eyes narrowed. "I've told you before, I'm not a cross-dresser Carl." Carl shook his head patronizingly. "Don't worry Paul, your secret is safe with me. The only other person who knows is this fashion designer I consulted before cutting him up for the sake of your secret." Paul closed his eyes, "I wear this hat for sentimental reasons, Carl, I'm not a cross-dresser."
The two of them stared at eachother for a moment.
They stared at eachother for a moment long.
"So I killed this man for the sake of your sentiment." Paul rolled his eyes and Carl nodded solemnly. "Yes sentiment, much like that which men who wear kilts embrace. And what a fine hat representation of a kilt you're wearing." Paul blinked. "Thank you, Carl." Carl nodded. "So are you going to tell me what you did to the body?"
"I simply sliced him up so I could reach his intestines. I turned them into a scarf as you can see."
"The intestines aren't in the head Carl."
"Yes, of course I know that, do you think me some sort of barbarian? I needed his skull. What else would I make these finely carved stilettos out of?"
"But you know I'm not a cross dresser so why would you need those things?"
"Perhaps it's because I wish to experiment women's clothing."
"Why didn't you go buy womens clothing then?"
"Inflation, my dear Paul. It shows no mercy. The expenses are rising at a troubling rate."
"Since when do you pay for things anyway Carl?"
"I don't know what you're talking about."
"Carl don't lie to me, you don't even pay for the birthday gifts you give me."
"Well I'm changing my ways."
"There's a dead man in our living room for the second time this month."
"I fail to see your point."
"Carl, just tell me why you killed this man."
"Well Paul, I assumed it would be more humane to kill a man rather than a woman or child."
"Fine, fine, it's because I saw him at a fashion conference for Nordstrom."
"What were you doing at a Nordstrom conference?"
"I'll have you know that I have a successful career in clothing design."
"Fine, go on."
"Well this man was an opposing fashion designer, who was threatening my position on the first day of the job!"
"I knew I couldn't let that slide, so when the conference ended we met up at the water cooler. We got to talking, and he asked me what I was working on, and I told him my roommate was a cross-dresser and that I was designing an outfit. He told me he had some ideas for sketches and he showed me and I liked them. It was then that my muse struck, so I dragged him here and the next thing I know his corpse is sitting there, and I have a beautiful outfit."