Mutilated Corpses With A Chance Of Afternoon

But Of Course, There's No Rest For The Wicked, Which I Certainly Am; As I Said, No Rest For The Wicked.

I Sighed; As Comforting As It May Be To Some Of Us, Sarcasm, Like Youth, Is Wasted On The Young.

I'm A Very Neat Monster.

Really Now: If You Can't Get Me My Newspaper On Time, How Can You Expect Me To Refrain From Killing People?

...being Torn Apart By Far Too Many Loyalties That Could Not Possibly Live Together In The Same Brain.