There's always a story to tell about how we catch the serial killers. Thank God the Son of Sam happened to park by a fire hydrant and a random police officer was there to get his license plate number jotted down on a parking ticket on the same night that our crazed killer went and put a hole in someone's head. Thank God one of the Night Stalker's bullets deflected off a woman's keys so she could play dead long enough for the demonic man to rape and kill her roommate, thus ensuring the npossum woman's opportunity to provide an account of the Night Stalker's hideous features to a sketch artist. But what would happen if there were no God to thank, if there were no incredible story to tell? Alas, truth is indeed stranger than fiction. Welcome to the world that is more real than reality, where the misery never sleeps, where the blind girl always gets raped, where the voices of the damned are never heard. Nothing is as real as pain. Nothing is as ugly as an aborted baby. You think you're healthy? You think you're doing fine? Take a downer. Welcome to the real world.