DEATH BY JEFFREY DAHMER
I've said it before but I'll say it again: I really think Jeffrey Dahmer was a really, really nice guy, and certainly didn't deserve being raped and beaten to death in prison. It's not his fault he thought killing and eating someone was an ideal Valentine's gift. So, I say, let him use his quirk for the good of society, and help some poor misguided souls have a good send-off.
Step one - subject and Jeffrey are introduced to each other, and move into a small, intimate New York apartment with every conceivable luxury provided.
Step two - subject and Jeffrey are encouraged to go on long romantic strolls, eat in expensive restaurants, stargaze together, crash on the sofa watching Julia Roberts movies all night, in order to blossom the feelings of affection in Jeffrey's lunatic brain. Should difficulty arise, Jeffrey will be given a book of professionally-arranged erotic photographs of the subject.
Step three - unable to contain his lust, Jeffrey kills the subject painlessly by poison while they sleep, then, if he's so inclined, has his way with the body until sunrise.
Step four - Jeffrey uses the flesh to make a series of splendid meat dishes, perhaps braised in a little white wine sauce or stewed with vegetables in a casserole, so that the subject can die with the knowledge that their body is being treated with utmost respect by an appreciative collector. Nothing is wasted - the hair is sold to wigmakers, bones go into making stock, and the toenails are ripped out and hidden in packets of crisps. For a laugh.
