The snow was piling up at a rate of two inches per hour when I got a hankering for a hot, delicious Meximelt Tuesday night. I asked Miss Mabel if she would take me to get one, and was rebuffed with a nasty look attached to a floppy bedroom slipper upside the head.

"Are you crazy? We'd never make it to Elkins alive, you nitwit!" she said, referring to the town 25 miles away where the nearest Taco Bell happened to be.

I did, then, what I do whenever I'm in a quandary: I trudged through the waist-high snow covering the alley and knocked on our neighbors' door. The snow was falling so fast and so heavily that it took me five minutes to fight my way through it. The husband part of that married couple, Nathan, is a fix-it-all, hyperactive good neighbor, and is usually on the lookout for something to do.

"Hey, babe. This snow sure is something, eh?" he said, looking over my head toward the treacherous, snow- and ice-covered street in front of his house.

"Nathan, I'm sure wanting a Meximelt from Taco Bell, but Miss Mabel won't drive me across the mountain to buy one. Can you help me out?"

"Well, hell yes I can," he said, pulling on a blue toboggan and a pair of rubber hip-high boots. He gave the gum in his mouth a few hundred quick, short bashings with his back teeth. "I've been itching to get out in this mess all night! Let's go!"

While we were sitting in Nathan's truck waiting to place our order at the Taco Bell drive-thru, a frantic knocking started on the tailgate and worked its way up to the windshield. "STIMPY!" I heard. "Hey, GET OUT OF THIS TRUCK RIGHT NOW!"

"What the—" Nathan started.

"It's just my friend Citizen Jim," I said, and rolled down the window on my side.

Nightmare in Wichita: The Hunt for the BTK Strangler Robert Beattie

He stuck his head inside the truck and shouted through chattering teeth, "W-w-what is W-W-W-W-RONG with y-y-y-you? I can't believe you're out hitchhiking in this storm when it's all over the news that BTK is loose!"

Nathan placed my order and looked over at Citizen Jim, who was now hanging halfway inside the truck, burying his nose in the heating vents.

"Why don't you open the door and let him sit in here with us?" Nathan said, working the gum in his mouth like a piece of tough steak.

"Because she's too STUPID to think of something like that!" Jim shouted.

Once Jim was inside the car, we rolled up to the window to get the food. As Nathan handed it to me, he said, "What's this guy talking about? Who's on the loose?"

"Oh, just some serial killer from Kansas. He killed about a half dozen people between 1974 and 1978, then he disappeared, and nobody ever caught him until last week. They're sure they have him in custody, now, but Jim is saying he's escaped."

Nathan nodded his head. "Uh huh. Okay," he said.

"BTK stands for 'bind, torture and kill,' which is what he did to his victims," I added.

The BTK Murders Carlton Smith

Jim doubled his fist and brought it down onto my thigh. "You dolt! I'm not talking about that damned BTK—he's still locked up tight as a nun's ass in Wichita. It's the other BTK I'm talking about!"

"I'm confused," Nathan said.

"Hanging out with Chicken Sheets makes it no wonder to me that you're confused," Citizen Jim said. "I'm trying to tell you guys that the Bacon, Tomato and Ketchup killer is on the loose—and you've played right into his hands by coming to a fast food restaurant on a dark, cold, windy night."

"Oh, Jim, I've never heard of such a thing! And besides—they don't even have bacon or ketchup at Taco Bell," I said. "You just wanted to see me, is all."

"For all I know, this guy is BTK. He's over there snapping his teeth like a damned Rottweiler," Jim said.

"Nathan's smoke-free, now, so he chews gum instead of sucking on those cancer sticks," I said.

"Then you oughta take a lesson from him, even if he is BTK," Jim said.

"Let's forget about BTK and share this hot, delicious Meximelt, okay, precious lamb?" I said to Jim.

"Stop this vehicle!" Jim shouted. "I want out RIGHT NOW!"

"We can't leave you on the side of the mountain in the middle of a snow storm," I said. "Come on home with us and we'll make hot chocolate and watch 'American Idol.' I know you're probably crazy about that little blonde country singer."

"Oh, puh-lease! Vonzell is going to win that thing without breaking a sweat," he said. "You don't know shit about 'American Idol.'"

"Well, come on home with me and we can watch it together," I said.

Unholy Messenger:The Life and Crimes of the BTK Serial Killer Stephen Singular

"Nope," he said, struggling to open the door while the truck was still moving. "I've got to warn the others, now, like I just tried to warn you. But let me tell you, Missy: don't come crying to me when that freak forces his way into your house and stuffs a tomato in your mouth, squirts ketchup in your eyes and fills your remaining orifices with undercooked bacon, is all I'm saying."

Nathan shook his head, chomping his gum with the speed of an industrial sewing machine stitching a piece of velvet. "If that happens, those girls can come over and get me, and I'll take care of this BTK bastard," he said.

"Gah! You never listen to me!" Jim yelled right before he jumped out the door and started rolling down the mountainside. His screams of frustration echoed throughout the valley below.