Do you know how incredibly boring it is to be a serial killer and villain who can't leave the house? And I'm not talking about that storm, I'm talking about the fact I literally cannot leave the house, thanks to my toy.
This is prime villain time, a natural disaster, a time when I can go out and loot, kill and or just cause sheer fucking chaos, drinking in your fears, absorbing them, relishing them...
And no, a tiny little brat has ensured I am stuck here, reading The Journal of Tooth Decay for the fifth Goddamn time.
And he took my fucking whiskey. Apparently, alcohol interferes with healing or some bullshit.
This is prime villain time, a natural disaster, a time when I can go out and loot, kill and or just cause sheer fucking chaos, drinking in your fears, absorbing them, relishing them...
And no, a tiny little brat has ensured I am stuck here, reading The Journal of Tooth Decay for the fifth Goddamn time.
And he took my fucking whiskey. Apparently, alcohol interferes with healing or some bullshit.