or at least a fat pig. I have cookies in my desk (don't tell my wife). I rationalize this by saying "I only bought them because they were on sale." The thing is as a fat kid I always have to take it to the next level of fatness. My coworker comes by and says, "Can I have a cookie?" My reply should have been, "Yes you can." Instead my reply was, "You know what? I'm going to microwave a few cookies and get some milk out the break room." That's how monsters think.
"You ever notice I didn't really eat cookies? I just crumbled them up so those bastard kids couldn't have them"Think about it; it's always a monster who takes it to the next level. I mean killing a person is pretty horrible, but a true monster is the guy (or gal) who thinks, "You know what, stabbibg this dude just isn't enough. I should cut out his eyeballs and testicles and then play pool with them." What I'm saying folks is I'm a serial killer, the only victim though is my health.
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