Killer Joe: A Nursery Rhyme

Many explanations and histories have been proposed for the mythological figure named Killer Joe. They all agree that he was a human with a taste for human flesh, though disagree on why. My research suggests that the character is a composite of several serial killers in combination with tales of the extinct species known as “trolls”. The prototypical story has the figure being abandoned or captured as a child (with parents sometimes eaten by the captor) and having a birthmark which gives whoever finds the child pause. Because of this, these finders adopt the child, and invariably being cannibals themselves, teach it their ways. Once the child grows, he leaves his adopted home, for reasons that vary wildly, and tries to integrate into human society. Unfortunately, he is unable to contain the bloodlust that has been instilled in him through his upbringing, and begins to hunt and kill those who dare venture into the night. Great cunning, cruelty, and constitution are all ascribed to the figure. The tale usually ends with his lair being discovered by playing children, but while it is destroyed and Joe is believed driven off, few tellings involve him being permanently stopped. In this way, the tale becomes a threat used to keep children in at night.
Considering that the story of Killer Joe appears most commonly in areas near existing or destroyed orcish encampments, I believe some fear of orcish blood rites plays into the psychological underpinnings of the tale. Understandably, orc children exposed to the story often express confusion as to why it so terrifies human children, and it has never taken hold within orcish cultures in the same manner it has in human ones.
Contained is an example I consider representative of the rhyming structure of the closing warning included in most tellings. The series of loose paired rhymes and culinary theme are ubiquitous, but a number of variant verses gain predominance in different areas.
Waitin’ in the dark
is Killer Joe
Wake him up
and he’ll eat you slow
He’ll roast you on his spit,
and while’ you’re cryin’
He’ll be heatin’ up his pan
to start your fryin’
He’ll chop off all your toes
ignorin’ your screamin’
Cook them in his oils
sweet and steamin’
Poppin’ them like candy
he’ll start in on your hands
Chewin’ on them raw
they won’t be touchin’ his pans
When he’s done with your hands
he’ll get the remainder
Tossin’ himself a salad
of limbs and coriander
When all that’s left is your torso
and most of your head
He won’t be finished,
you’ll be long from dead
He’ll steam you on his pot
listenin’ for the whistle
Pourin’ boiled water
and mixin’ in thistle
Your eyes will be poached
and your tongue made brisket
The sizzlin’ of your ears
with butter and biscuit
Finally, when he’s done
and tired of your moans
He’ll peel you like a lemon
and feast upon your bones
So hush little child,
and sleep you well
Or Killer Joe will come
and drag you to hell

-Excerpt from the notes of Anthropologist Dandelion Breeze