You could have fucked me __il your uncut, overexposed on the blogs, __oo ginormous for my snatch_ pecker fell off. And I__ still no way never ever in a thousand years sell, loan, sample you my Easton. And to answer your question, I run my company with my pussy, and twenty-four other pussy-sporting employees. Easton girls do not allow dickheads or cocks in our fashion world. Period.

No one just starts giggling and wearing black and signs up to become a villainous monster. How the hell do you think it happens? It happens to people. Just people. They make questionable choices, for what might be very good reasons. They make choice after choice, and none of them is slaughtering roomfuls of saints, or murdering hundreds of baby seals, or rubber-room irrational. But it adds up. And then one day they look around and realized that they're so far over the line that they can't remember where it was.

He looked like an evil male model, showing off what the fashionable college-age villain was wearing to Harvard this year.

That__ the problem with you nearly immortal types,_ I said. __ou couldn__ spot a pop culture reference if it skittered up and implanted an embryo down your esophagus.

Bring it, Darth Bathrobe!

Most of the bad guys in the real world don't know that they are bad guys. You don't get a flashing warning sign that you're about to damn yourself. It sneaks up on you when you aren't looking.