As I spend the night looking back at my life I notice that when I was younger, some women told me they loved me for my eyes, I accepted. Later it was for my physic, then for money. Then for my wit. Then because of my mind—(deep), OK, I fucking can handle that easily.
The only woman who scares me is the one who loves me for myself alone. I have special plans for her. I have poisons, traps, knives and baseball bats for her. I literally have a bullet with her name on it. I know all of those deep dark graves in caves to hide her body. Trenchs to make her head disappear. She cannot be allowed to be alive. Especially if she is sexualy faithful, never lies ,makes good coffee and always puts me ahead of everything and everyone…She just gotta die.