Nanabanana

I was propelled into this world in the dead of winter and I'm still mad about it. You'd think any loving mother would have kept her legs crossed until spring! As a small child I enjoyed plotting to destroy the world. Still working on that. Despite my kindly demeanor, superior intelligence and monumental drive to succeed, I have no money. Makes it hard to destroy the world. I console myself by destroying small things, like roof moss and automobiles. I suggest using a ten pound axe for automobiles. Baseball bats just don't do the job. So here I sit, building callouses on my withered rump and waiting for the day when all my dreams come true. My dreams are consistently psychotic. More on that later. The other day, my psychiatrist said I must try harder to get along with other people, but that would involve actually speaking with other people. I find that speaking with people is largely unproductive and sometimes frightening for them. I don't like it when people walk away from me backwards. That's when I scream. Even when I was a small child, teachers invested in full body Kevlar. Silly really. I've never made anybody bleed, except that time when I loosened the screws on a chandelier. As I grew into adulthood I got sneakier in my activities. I find that I can indulge in a great deal of mayhem if I fake a sickening smile! My family is dead now, but I didn't do it. I'm just a jolly little psychopath with a deep desire for destruction. What's wrong with that?