Roid Rage

Hello world, my name is Sammy Jenkins.

When I dripped out of my mama's cooter, the OBGYN didn't slap me, because the world slapped first.

She died giving birth, and it was all downhill from there.

My life was a joke. My job was a joke. My bank account was a joke.

But all this was about to change...

And there wasn't a soul on this Earth who could've prepared themselves for the retribution.

Jenkins. Munroe.

I'm guessing this is the reason we missed breakfast...

Another dead hooker. Face torn to shit just like the others.

Christ it's like peeling apart a grilled cheese sandwich.

Yeah and she smells like hot garbage.

Can't tell if it's her filthy snatch or the fact that she's been baking in this oven for the past three days.

Out partying last night Munroe?

Fuck you.

So we have a serial killer on our hands here boss?

Either that or a skull-fucking maniac with flesh eating semen.

Let's go scope out the bathroom.

Jesus Christ.

It's fucking filthy in here.

Mother fucker...

Look what I found...

Hemorrhoid cream...

I'll be damned.

This ain't a coincedence boss.

This is the second bottle we've found at one of these crime scenes.

My old man uses Correctum.

This is perscription grade shit, you can't just buy this over the counter.

You know what this means; we've got our first lead.

Get on the phone and call every ass doctor in town.

Useless shit.

Hello.

Doc. It's me, Sammy.

Hey there Samster!

Look... I've plowed through the ointment. It's just not helping.

I think I might have to let you take a peek inside my bum after all.

Well you shouldn't have turned down the offer the first time bud,

Why don't you swing by the office this afternoon?

I'll poke around the old fartbox and figure out what's causing this mess.

OK. Whatever.

Whoever this asshole is, he's extremely clever about choosing his victims.

Who would've thought we'd have a modern day Jack the Ripper right in our own fucking town.

Talk to me...

Boss, we have a proctologist who just denied two rookies from entering his office.

Jackpot.

Let's move.

Hey assholes, are you gonna pay for that?

What are you gonna do, call the cops?

Pricks!

So doc...

Is your office usually this empty?

Well no Sammy...

I just like to clear the place out for special cases.

I think it's quite comfortable this way. Don't you agree?

I suppose so.

So the Correctum isn't relieving you of all your troubles?

It's just not cutting it anymore Doc.

Isn't that a shame.

Goodness! We are in bad shape aren't we...

I think I'm going to have to put on a fucking miner's helmet...

To help me explore all the nooks and crannies of this dark, deep tunnel.

Any recent strenuous activity back there?

Nothing out of the ordinary.

Now you may feel some pressure.

This chocolate sauce will blow your mind.

You really wanna blow your mind?

Check out this grundle hair they recovered at the scene.

How'd you get your hands on this?

Look at our fuckin' outfits...

We got the same shit as forensics.

I slipped right past the feds.