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I tore into my stocking with gleeful abandon.

  • I tore into my stocking with gleeful abandon. Would there be cash, candy, trick new gadgets? Hmm, let's see: socks (meh), toothbrush (retch), nail file (pshh), fruit (gag), dishrag
  • (sigh), a packet of slightly used tissues (eww), a bag of half-eaten cookies... Yeesh! I wasn't "that" bad all year, was I? I gulped. Unless you count the time that I stuffed the
  • Thanksgiving turkey with rat poison, one could say I did a pretty good job this year. Used tissues didn't seem like a justifiable reward for how much control I had over my
  • urges to kill. The poisoned turkey was fed to all of my relatives. They THOUGHT they had eaten so much that they'd gotten sleepy. But I knew better and smiled as they laid down and
  • drifted into a deep sleep...an eternal sleep. The deed was done, and I had my henchman clean up the poisoned food and the bodies of my relatives as I
  • Laid there playing dead. The henchman looked for the diamonds, but found none of them. His map was all wrong,.again. Argh!
  • "You are all bloody idiots! The boss ain't gonna be too happy," one of the burly men shouted from the other end of the cave. "H
  • ave you any idea the amount of effort that went into setting up this job? Why the hell am I asking you mooks? You're mooks, you don't know your elbow from your wife's ass? The boss
  • chomped down harder on his cigar as he surveyed his mook-filled office. There was a time when he would have just killed them all. Started over from scratch. But henchman were a
  • commodity and he never walked away from equity. So he built a cabins for his henchmen out in the parking lot and called it Camp Goon. Oh, the songs they sang, out in the night.

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