Diagnosis Murder isn’t just a TV show from the early 1990’s. It’s actually the title of my newest PIC article. Who knew, right? For some reason when I woke up this morning, I thought about the time this guy asked me to help to kill someone. Yes, you read that right. murder.

Now, it’s not every day that somebody asks me if I will help them commit murder and is totally serious about it. It was probably one of the most disturbing experiences of my life. I figured since it was on my mind, I’d share this story with you, the PIC reader. My loyal fans. I’ll start with some back story.

There is this guy, Ricky, who is crazy. His real name isn’t Ricky, either. I would never tell you his real name, even though I doubt he has the internet, or will ever see this article. Although, if you never hear from me again, please forward this article to the Pennsylvania State Police. I’ve known Ricky for a long time. I don’t really “know” him as much as he’s friends with my older brother. Ricky has always been a loose canon, even though he grew up in an upper middle class household and really has no reason (that I know of) to be a psychopath. Though, some things are just genetics, I guess.

Ricky was always an outstanding athlete and always treated me with respect, which I was grateful for,I would say probably 20-25 throw down fist fights in my life, many with people who were lot bigger than me—but I have NEVER had my ass kicked, nor have I ever lost a fight. The closest I came to losing a fight was a draw with somebody almost twice my size. We both walked away after about half an hour of fighting. I was once punched in the face so hard that it split my lip in two, requiring 13 stitches. I shrugged off the punch (that most likely would have knocked out most people) to beat the shit out of the kid. With all that being said, I wouldn’t mess with Ricky if you paid me a million dollars.

I have always been extremely nervous around Ricky, too. He’s just that kind of person.