A Haunting On The Maine Coast

Mysterious Deaths Plague Maine Coast; Spectral Activity Or Serial Killer?

Portland, Maine (AP) It is a landscape with a rich history, tall tales, and dark superstitions, if you pay heed to the old timers sitting outside the small town general stores swapping stories. The coast of Maine has always been a place of the sea, of ghost stories and wild woodlands, of strange sightings and things that go bump in the night. As of late, that appears to be weighing heavily on the minds of people living along the Atlantic coast, where in the last two months, a mysterious series of unexplained deaths have been taking place.

Seventeen people have died in mysterious circumstances. Police have confirmed that in each case, while no physical injury has been inflicted on them- at least by another party- each have been found with an expression in death being one of sheer horror. "As if they'd seen a ghost," Captain George Allen of the Maine State Police said at the scene of the latest death, where a seventy eight year old woman had been found on a beach, having had fallen from a bluff below. "Her injuries appear to have been sustained in the fall, but her face was locked in terror."

She remains unnamed pending notification of family, but she was last seen the prior evening in the local town of Cabot Cove at a library board meeting before being found by a beach walker at dawn. 

In each case of the seventeen dead, all were known to be well liked in their communities. "Who would have wanted to hurt my dad?" teacher Cassandra Tupper said. Her father, Lyle Tupper, was an area doctor who was the first to be found dead, in a similar state, in his backyard in early March. Neighbours had heard an unearthly scream. When Tupper had been found moments later, he was seen to be alone, fallen on the ground, his face locked in horror. No one had been seen to leave the yard, or to enter it. At least not by living eyes. 

A doorbell camera across the street did capture something- but it only raised more questions. Police are tight lipped about it, but one source, speaking anonymously, said, "for a few seconds, this misty shape can be seen emerging from the side laneway, and then disappears off screen. I don't know about you, but I know ghosts when I see one."

A ghost of who, that is the question. Doctor Tupper was a resident of the small town of Cabot Cove. Son of the sheriff. Brother of another sheriff. A well liked doctor, affable and friendly. With not an enemy in the world. No one to speak ill of him in any way. A common thread with the other victims in these cases.

But Cabot Cove has a dark history. 

It was once the home of the world's most prolific serial killer. The murder mystery novelist Jessica Fletcher, who died in a Canadian prison in 2022 after being brought down by the world's crankiest lawman, exposed for having had committed thousands of murders over decades. 

Her final resting place is in Cabot Cove, alongside her late husband- who, ironically, was her first victim. She died on Hallowe'en night, 2022, in solitary confinement after killing another inmate sixty years younger than her. Stories that went around after her conviction indicated that of a deranged, psychopathic, remorseless monster who would speak of eating the heart of the very lawman who arrested her. Her loved ones were shocked by the allegations, the arrest, the conviction, and her ultimate end. Her home in Cabot Cove remains empty, despite being held on the market by her nephew Grady. Not even the bravest children dare to trespass, warning each other what might happen if they do. Stories are shared more and more of a spectral shade wandering the coast, late at night, of an unseen female voice with an English accent speaking about torture.

Local psychic Dru Blaise has her own perspective. "All of the people who have died. I believe they may have been on her to-do list. She knew everyone here. And we were all fooled by her. Is it possible that she meant to kill all of us over time? I don't know. But my dreams have been dark as of late. I see a malevolence in these parts, offering tea with arsenic and an English accent."

Sheriff Angus Tupper, who has spent years since the arrest of Cabot Cove's most famous and infamous resident trying to understand the depth of her depravity, had this to say. "Well, if anyone could claw their way back from hell, it would be her. Which, if you'd asked me twenty years ago, I wouldn't have said so. But I've read her journals, and she was into some serious dark ****. Now, the idea of her also doing in my brother? Where does it end?"

Grady Fletcher, the dimwitted nephew of the murderer, sighed and shook his head. "I don't know. I don't get it. She's dead. I'm still trying to accept that my sweet old aunt was this psychopathic monster. But people don't come back from the dead. Ghosts? They're not real. But all the same, I think we've got to play it safe and call in the Ghostbusters on this one."

When told that the Ghostbusters aren't real, Fletcher looked even more confused. "Are you sure?"

Whatever the truth is, residents of the coast, particularly of Cabot Cove, are looking over their shoulders a lot more these days. 

The last word belongs to the lawman who ended her reign of terror. Legendary Mountie Inspector Lars Ulrich was found at his detachment in the Alberta foothills by a group of real reporters. After being assured that the real reporters were well aware that he was not the Metallica drummer Lars Ulrich, the inspector appeared to be at ease. "Whatever is happening out there does sound odd. But it doesn't mean it's a ghost."

"Hypothetically, though, if her vengeful spirit clawed its way back from the dead. Should you be worried? She swore eternal revenge against you in particular," this reporter noted.

Ulrich shrugged. "Let me put it to you this way. I don't believe in ghosts. But if ghosts were real, then I wouldn't be scared of them." 

He paused. "But they should be terrified of me."

At this point, there was the sound of footsteps and a raised voice. "Lars! Lars!" The reporters turned, seeing a goofy looking fresh faced guy in an ill fitting suit, followed by a cameraman. The reporters backed off, well too familiar with what the Mountie did to entertainment reporters. "Bobby Burns, Lars, Entertainment Tonight. Good to meet you. Lars, what the whole world wants to know is, what's the truth about the rumours that Metallica is doing an album with Adele?"

Ulrich looked ready to throttle him. "I am not that Lars Ulrich."

Burns looked confused. "Are you sure?"

What happened next wasn't pretty. Ulrich threw one hard left handed punch, sending Burns crashing twenty meters away. And then Ulrich started chasing him, as the entertainment reporter fled. It ended with Burns in a body cast, whimpering over and over about his favourite drummer kicking the crap out of him.

The Final End Of A Serial Killer

 All good things come to an end, and so it was with the recent passing of Angela Lansbury that her signature character Jessica Fletcher must come to an end.

This includes my take on that character- where in this strange thing I call the Kendallverse, she's long since been exposed as the world's most prolific serial killer and imprisoned where she can't escape. I'm genuinely going to miss writing the old psychotic. And so here we go...

World's Most Dangerous Serial Killer Has Met Her End; World Breathes A Sigh Of Relief

Calgary, Alberta (CP) She was once a famous mystery novelist, renowned for her cozy mysteries and her English-transplant ways in a small New England town. She was known for getting involved in police investigations wherever she went, and for unmasking murderers and seeing to it that they'd get what was coming to them. But until recent years, she hid terrible secrets, secrets that have only recently come to light.

That she was a serial killer, and the most prolific serial killer the world has ever seen.

Jessica Fletcher, novelist and convicted murderer, has died while in custody at Stormhaven Women's Prison outside Calgary, serving a life sentence for multiple murders. In the years since her arrest, when her diaries were uncovered documenting thousands of murders over the years, law enforcement agencies across the world have been sorting through their own cases to determine who was wrongfully convicted and who they have to really apologize to. The true number of Fletcher's victims may, sadly, never be known. 

Prison officials confirmed her death on October 31st, near the stroke of midnight. "She was in solitary again, after somehow putting a shank in the spine of a new inmate two days earlier," a staff member speaking anonymously confirmed. "Imagine that, a woman in her nineties doing that to another woman sixty years younger. But we all knew she was dangerous. Anyway, she was heard ranting and roaring, screaming for hours on end about what she was going to do to that lawman who had brought her down. Sick, sick stuff, man. Cannibalism, torture, the whole thing. Just sick. And then nothing. The old ticker finally gave out and she was quiet. Our guys checked on her, and she was sprawled on the floor looking like she'd met her maker."

That lawman, of course, is Inspector Lars Ulrich, the legendary Mountie and world's crankiest policeman, who exposed Fletcher as a serial killer, became the object of her murderous fixation during the legal proceedings and trial, and who recaptured her after her infamous escape from prison. 

Fletcher's body has been returned to her home town of Cabot Cove, Maine, and laid to rest beside the remains of her late husband- who ironically is among the list of her victims. Residents of the small town, who had to live for decades as the murder capital, by population, of the world, don't quite know what to make of the infamy of the world's most malevolent serial killer having had been a long-time fixture of the community.

"It's a difficult time for all of us," Grady Fletcher, the dimwitted nephew of the deceased admitted. "Aunt Jessica was loved by everyone who ever met her. She was the kindest, sweetest lady you'd have ever met. I know, I know... she was convicted of multiple counts of murder, and there's all this other stuff about her that's come out, but it's all got to be a mistake. That's not the Aunt Jessica I knew."

Local doctor Lyle Tupper, son of the late sheriff Amos Tupper, was more in touch with reality. "My father would have been horrified. At least he went to his grave not knowing that this interfering dingbat writer was murdering people right under his nose and framing other people for it. If he had lived to see her arrested and exposed... well, we all know what happened to Doc Hazlitt. He had a fatal heart attack when he heard about it."

His brother Angus Tupper, now the sheriff, concurs. "I've gone through the journals. It still baffles me. A peaceful town like this. Home to pure evil. So many murders. So many lives broken by false convictions. If only we'd pieced it together sooner. But it is what it is. I know that's cold comfort to people who spent years behind bars for murders they didn't commit, framed by her. But how were we to know?"

In the end, her reign of terror is over. She can cause no further harm. Aside from the distress of seeing her name on a gravestone in the very cemetery with people whom she killed.

The last word in all of this goes to the world's crankiest lawman, who was found returning to his detachment after an epic two hundred kilometre manhunt for the notorious Maurice "Stickyfingers" Ducharme, who's facing serious criminal charges for armed robberies of trucks carrying Molson Canadian beer. Ducharme was returned to jail after jumping bail, seen being dragged by the ankle by Inspector Lars Ulrich. After disposing of the beer thief, Ulrich found reporters waiting for him. Reassured that they all knew he wasn't the other Lars Ulrich, the Inspector was willing to answer questions.

"She's dead. Good. She was a psychotic," Ulrich summed up the late Fletcher. "And she got away with a lot of things for a long time. But in the end, justice got her. And right about now it's safe to say she's roasting in hell."

"Lars! Lars! Chet Chesterson, Entertainment Tonight!" a voice called, someone rushing up to the group. The real reporters all backed away, giving the inspector some space. Ulrich locked his gaze on the newcomer, a vacant headed nitwit who, like all who had come before him, couldn't tell the difference between a Mountie in the prime of life and a deafened heavy metal drummer in the downslope of his life. "What everyone wants to know, Lars, is will Metallica contribute to the soundtrack for the inevitable Jessica Fletcher biopic?"

"I am not that Lars Ulrich," the inspector said in a quiet growling tone.

"Are you sure?"

Without warning, Ulrich sprang forward, punching Chesterson in the face, sending him flying. Chesterson got up and started running away, the Inspector hot on his heels.

The pursuit would end with Chesterson in a body cast for the next six months, groaning about how he had been beaten within an inch of his life by a heavy metal drummer.

The Downfall Of A Fugitive

World's Most Notorious Fugitive Captured, World Breathes Sigh Of Relief

Calgary (CP). The long nightmare is over. People across North America and around the world feel a bit safer tonight. A feared fugitive who escaped from custody several weeks ago was successfully brought to justice and captured, returning to incarceration in the maximum security Stormhaven Women's Prison outside Calgary, Alberta on the weekend.

We refer, of course, to the one time murder mystery novelist and world's most prolific serial killer, Jessica Fletcher.

Fletcher, a longtime resident of Cabot Cove, Maine, often called the murder capital of the world for an average of twelve murders a year in a village of some three thousand people, was arrested for a series of murders in Canada and put on trial. In the wake of her arrests, secret journals were recovered from her home boasting of committing thousands of murders, often framing an innocent person for the crime. To this date law enforcement in multiple jurisdictions across the world continue to come to grips with her involvement in crimes. The true number of victims killed by Fletcher may never truly be known.

Fletcher escaped prison in late September, killing 47 people in a daring escape and fleeing into the Alberta countryside. In the weeks that followed, another 112 more people were murdered, some on camera, others witnessed by third parties. Some crimes were thought to be spur of the moment, others involved methodical uses of torture or poison. All appear to have been caused by Fletcher, who from time to time would make brief calls to local radio stations, boasting of her crimes.

"I just don't understand," Grady Fletcher, the dimwitted nephew of the murderer said when reached at home in Cabot Cove, where he's writing his memoirs, titled She Wasn't That Bad: Life With My Aunt. "Aunt Jessica was always such a nice lady. I know what they're saying about her, and even though I've personally seen her go ballistic in court, I still can't believe she'd do all that."

Fletcher was known in her brief calls to make taunting remarks towards the lawman who brought her down in the first place, the legendary Mountie Inspector Lars Ulrich, the world's crankiest lawman. She had been fixated on him during the trial, making multiple threats all throughout the proceedings involving his graphic torture and death, and cannibalizing him. She would repeat some of the same before hanging up on radio hosts, vowing bloody revenge against the man she blamed for ending her reign of terror.

Or at least putting it on hold. As mentioned, 112 people on either side of the Alberta- British Columbia border were murdered, an astonishing death rate for a killer whose average kills in a year fluctuated. Other bodies might yet be found. Authorities all along the western border in the United States were watchful, wondering if the infamous serial killer might try to get back into her homeland. 

In the end, the worry was all for nothing, as she never made it to the American border.

A spokesperson for Alberta's minister of justice spoke with reporters on Sunday, confirming that the arrest had been made. "Mrs. Fletcher was brought back into custody on Sunday afternoon," Kelly Landon told reporters. "She was brought back to Stormhaven after being arrested by the very lawman she wanted to settle scores with. Inspector Lars Ulrich of the Royal Canadian Mounted Police."

The world's crankiest lawman was not available for comment, but Landon went into detail about the thrilling end of the manhunt for the serial killer, which took place in a place well known to the lawman, and one fitting for the subject of the murderer's choice of writing genre: Tombstone Canyon in the Rockies.

It was there, in a place where Ulrich has often been known to chase down entertainment reporters mistaking him for the other Lars Ulrich, that the two adversaries had a confrontation on a footbridge spamming the chasm. It ended with Fletcher trying to destroy the bridge in an attempt to take Ulrich to his death with her, but was thwarted by Ulrich successfully knocking her out and disarming the explosives she had planted. 

"That's just the sort of thing the Inspector would do," one of the Mounties at his detachment in the Alberta foothills said. "Sure, it might have been tempting to end her right then and there. But we Mounties always get our man. Or woman in this case."

Ulrich cuffed Fletcher and delivered her to Stormhaven, where she was taken into custody and put in an improved cell on 24 hour watch. At last report she was heard screaming bloody murder in a 12 hour long temper tantrum, and vowing to eat Ulrich's heart while it was still beating.

The world at large is somewhat better at ease today now that the world's most dangerous fugitive has been brought back into custody. The world's greatest and grouchiest lawman has once again come through.

Elsewhere, at Menard Correctional Centre in Illinois, a convict who has been incarcerated since 1994 is trying to gain freedom by suggesting Fletcher is responsible for his crimes. Frederick Sykes, a former police officer, ex-corporate security specialist, and one armed man jailed for three murders and other various crimes, insists he was framed, despite the case being deemed air-tight by prosecutors. "Jessica Fletcher wasn't near Chicago during the times of the murders Sykes and his accomplice were convicted for," Chicago Deputy District Attorney Alan Winninger insisted. "She was killing three people in Seattle on the night of the first murder, framing one person in London on the night of the second murder, and killing another person in Cabot Cove on the night of the last murder. Frederick Sykes and Charles Nichols framed Doctor Richard Kimble, an innocent man, for a murder they committed. For which we've been really, really sorry for for a long time."

Sykes remains defiant. "Look at me! I'm a one armed man! Isn't that enough to get me a bit of sympathy? Who could I possibly have bludgeoned and shot with my one good hand?"

The Escape Of A Nonagenarian

 

Elderly Serial Killer Escapes From Prison, Kills Forty Seven People On The Way Out

Calgary (AP) The world's most notorious serial killer is out on the loose after a daring escape from the  Stormhaven Women's Prison on the weekend. The jailbreak involved hostages, exchanges of gunfire with prison guards, and the brutal slaughter of twenty guards, nineteen inmates, and eight visitors. It was committed by someone who, at first glance, you wouldn't expect it out of. A ninety two year old grandmother-like figure who, nonetheless, has gone down in history as the world's most prolific murderer.

We speak, of course, of Jessica Fletcher.

Fletcher was once the esteemed mystery novelist known for involving herself in police investigations in her home town of Cabot Cove and beyond. Cabot Cove, a sleepy community in Maine, was deemed the world's most dangerous place to live with more murders per capita in each year for a village of its size. Fletcher was known to meddle in police cases of the latest murder, conveniently pointing the finger at the likely suspect. Only later did it come out that Fletcher framed each and every one in a systematic way. Innocent people were executed or imprisoned for years. Her trail of destruction is thought to consist of thousands of victims over decades.

When the truth finally came out, Fletcher was arrested in Canada for a series of murders by the legendary RCMP inspector Lars Ulrich, the world's crankiest lawman. Her spree of crimes began to be exposed in the aftermath of that arrest, and it was noted throughout the pre-trial and trial process that Fletcher became fixated on Ulrich, often threatening the Mountie in court in graphic ways. While other jurisdictions conducted their own investigations, based on the acquisition of Fletcher's diaries, and compiled lists of murders attributable to her, the primary case against her proceeded in Canada, where custody of the suspect deemed the Crown's case against the author to allow for first dibs in prosecution. Other jurisdictions have since, in absentia, run trials against Fletcher and secured convictions, adding on to her multiple life sentences. 

Fletcher seemed to take to life in prison in stride, enjoying the notoriety of a serial killer. Despite her advanced age, she quickly established herself as the alpha in the prison population, killing three rivals in her first two days behind bars. She was known, following her conviction, to rant about Ulrich constantly, while her supporters insisted that she was framed for murder and was in fact innocent of all crimes she was accused and convicted of.

On Sunday she received a visitor from the Free Jessica Fletcher Committee, one Alison Gaines, the vice president of the committee's fundraising committee, taking her hostage, turning the prison into a bloodbath of stabbings, shootings, and explosions before taking a facility director's car and killing her hostage as the last of the forty seven dead of her latest rampage. She was last seen driving west, with the car abandoned two hours later. A rash of car thefts may or may not have to do with her.

Across the world, people are wary of the threat presented by the elderly but deadly serial killer. Her nephew Grady Fletcher, reached at home, was resigned to it all. "It's such a shock," he told reporters by phone. "Even knowing all she has done, it's hard to reconcile my dear sweet aunt with the monster that she's been portrayed as. Someone must have made a mistake somewhere along the line."

Senator Ted Cruz, often jokingly accused of being the Zodiac Killer by late night comedians, had his own take on the matter. "You know, it may well be that Jessica Fletcher was the real Zodiac Killer and at some point suggested to one of those late night comedy writers that it was me. It's a conspiracy, and I want it investigated by the Justice Department and Fox News. Don't forget, Tucker, you owe me."

Police on both sides of the border are extensively hunting for Fletcher in the wake of her escape. An examination of her jail cell found multiple handwritten notes and photographs of Inspector Ulrich with his eyes scratched out, along with a bizarre manifesto promising to torture the Inspector and cannibalize him while he was still alive. "It's a profound obsession," consulting psychologist Dr. Julia Denham said. "This is the man who finally ended her crime spree, and that's unacceptable for someone as deeply psychopathic as Fletcher. She won't rest until she has him in her grasp."

Even though they're not that Lars Ulrich, multiple people by the name Lars Ulrich around the world have gone to police precincts and stations for protection. That includes the other Lars Ulrich, the deafened Metallica drummer who doesn't look anything like the Mountie. Lars, reached from an undisclosed location with a panic room, spoke to this reporter by phone, sounding worried and frantic. "It's crazy, man, totally *****ing crazy. This batshit crazy old codger is out to kill Lars ****ing Ulrich! And that's me! But it's not me, it's that other Lars Ulrich. Why the **** did we both have to be named Lars Ulrich?"

Where is the most prolific serial killer of all time? Time will tell. She is now the subject of the biggest manhunt of all time, with multiple police jurisdictions searching for her on either side of the border. She is not to be underestimated, having had shown for years a resourcefulness and cunning personality hidden behind a grandmotherly charm. The RCMP has warned that she is to be considered extremely dangerous, past ninety or not, and asks that anyone seeing her not attempt to engage her but call police immediately.

As for the Inspector? The world's grouchiest lawman was reached by reporters in Vancouver, where he had chased Godzilla into the sea after an epic pursuit across the western mountains. The giant lizard was last seen swimming past Vancouver Island at a fast clip. Reassured by reporters that they all knew he was not that Lars Ulrich, the legendary Mountie seemed more at ease. "Yes, I know that battleaxe escaped. And yes, I expect she wants to even the score with me. Am I concerned? Not really."

"She is a notorious serial killer," one reporter pointed out.

Ulrich nodded. "And people should take that seriously. I put nothing past her. But her chances against me? A snowball has a better chance in hell."

"What do you think about her intention to cannibalize you while you're still alive?" this reporter asked.

"First, that she'd have to get me in that position first, which isn't likely," Ulrich said. "Second, I think that she's bat shit crazy."

And so it is. Somewhere out there in the Canadian West, a blood crazed serial killer with a habit of framing people for her murders over afternoon tea is on the loose. People have died. More people may yet die. And the world's grouchiest lawman is ready for whatever comes next.

Especially punching out entertainment reporters if they mistake him for the other Lars Ulrich.

The Downfall Of A Psychotic Serial Killer

Sentencing Goes Through On Convicted Serial Killer, Blood Oaths Sworn

Calgary (CP). It has been called the Trial Of The Century, often attached to cases that might not well deserve it. To the frustration of the American media, filming is not allowed in Canadian courts, which perhaps made the proceedings inside the court somewhat more dignified than, say… the OJ Simpson trial. And yet it was filled with the drama and intrigue of a high stakes legal battle. A serial killer stands convicted of multiple murders and desecration of bodies, and connected to thousands of more murders around the world. Now the case is at an end, with a sentence handed out against the convicted murderer, the famed mystery novelist Jessica Fletcher. Otherwise known as the most prolific serial killer in history.

It is not a common thing in Canadian justice for consecutive sentences to be handed out, but it is not unheard of either. Fletcher stood up in court with her defense attorney, Joni Mitchell (not the singer) at her side). Among those gathered in the public area were a multitude of press, Fletcher’s dimwitted nephew Grady Fletcher, and the legendary lawman who brought her crimes to an end, RCMP Inspector Lars Ulrich. Fletcher had seen the Inspector upon being brought in, said nothing, but fixed a death glare upon him.

The proceedings commenced with the judge asking Fletcher if she had anything to say before sentencing. Fletcher spent thirty minutes in a quiet but seething below the surface voice, vowing that she would escape, that she would have her revenge upon everyone who had put her here today, that she would sacrifice them all to the Great Old One, Cthulhu. She singled out Ulrich in particular, vowing that she would make his suffering a particular agony. “I will shred his nerves from ends to brain stem, flay him alive, and feast on his entrails and his heart.” This particular threat elicited little more than an eye roll from the Inspector.

After the thirty minute threat was brought to an end, the judge announced his decision in sentencing. Fletcher was sentenced to twenty life terms, to be served consecutively. In effect, she will die in prison. Fletcher replied that she would see to it that his agony would be particularly brutal and would show him no mercy. The judge ordered her removed from court. She was taken into custody by police, turned briefly and made eye contact with Ulrich, who smirked. “I’ll eat your heart with nutmeg, Ulrich! Do you hear me? With nutmeg!” With that, she was removed from court, brought to a prison east of the city, and placed into maximum security, solitary confinement for the remainder of her sentence, deprived of even the opportunity to murder a cellmate.

In the wake of the sentencing, Grady Fletcher faced the press outside the courthouse. A multitude of Jessica Fletcher fans looked on, devastated by the downfall of their idol. “I just don’t understand. Aunt Jessica… this can’t be. She was always the nicest, kindest person you could have ever known. This has to be a conspiracy. It has to be. Or this is a nightmare and I’m going to wake up and it’ll all be different. Quick, someone pinch me.” Reporters filed away, not seeing much point in trying to reason with a dimwit. Fletcher fans sobbed and wept.

Joni Mitchell left court and was intercepted by reporters. First they reassured her that they knew full well she was not the folk singer, given that she looked nothing like her, and that she was much younger. Then they asked for comment, asking if she would be filing an appeal of the verdict. “To what end?” she asked, weary. “Whatever else I can say about this case, it was run in a professional manner. I see no grounds for an appeal. I will only say at this time that even the worst of us deserves a vigorous defense against criminal charges. And that batshit crazy old battleaxe counts as the worst of us.”

It was at this point that Ulrich came out. He saw the reporters, got that familiar look of exasperation on his face, and approached with hesitation. The reporters reassured him that they knew full well he was not that Lars Ulrich and asked for his own comment.  “Justice is done. She’s spending her remaining days behind bars. I couldn’t be happier.” He said this with a facial expression that suggested anything but happiness, but then again, Lars Ulrich’s standard facial expression is grumpiness.

When asked about the multiple and graphic threats Fletcher had made against him throughout the legal proceedings, Ulrich shrugged. “Ladies and gentlemen, please. I’ve taken down megalomaniacs and monsters. I’ve made titans cry. I won’t dispute that Jessica Fletcher is dangerous. But comparatively speaking? I can sleep soundly at night knowing that her threats are empty. Her day is done.”

A voice called out from the back of the crowd. “Lars! Joni!” The reporters started to make way as a vacant eyed man with an Access Hollywood cameraman following cut through. “Cooper Collins, Access Hollywood. Can I get your comment on the rumour that’s out there that Metallica is doing a crossover album with Joni?”

Ulrich and Mitchell glared at him. Then they glanced at each other. Then they glared back at Collins. “I am not that Lars Ulrich,” Ulrich said in a low, menacing voice. Legitimate reporters started backing off, knowing what was coming.

“And I am not that Joni Mitchell,” Mitchell stated.

Collins looked confused, a common problem for entertainment reporters. “Are you sure?"

With that, both Ulrich and Mitchell hit him in the face at the same time, sending him falling backwards. What followed was a beating that put Collins in the hospital in a body cast, muttering endlessly about folk-metal hybrid rage. Mitchell took her leave of the courthouse. Ulrich was called back to duty, as the Kraken had been sighted outside of Calgary. Within ten minutes of the inspector making contact, the Kraken was a fallen foe, rendered unconscious by a victorious Mountie.

The last word belongs to a Great Old One. Once thought to be the fictional creation of H.P. Lovecraft, it turned out that Cthulhu is real, living these days deep beneath the surface of a remote island somewhere in the Pacific. But the gigantic monstrosity, capable of entering the dreams of man and imposing its will on them, does have FaceTime. Speaking through a translation program, Cthulhu made a statement to this reporter. “Look, I want to disavow any notion that Jessica Fletcher is an acolyte of mine. I know batshit crazy, okay? And she’s batshit crazy. She wants to go on and on about sacrificing people to me, well, that’s on her. Lots of crazy people have tried using my name to justify their acts.”

He paused for a moment before carrying on. “As for Lars Ulrich… just ask him to leave me alone. He kicked my gargantuan ass once, and once is plenty enough, thank you very much. That guy scares the hell out of me.”