Killing Makes Me Feel Good.

I Am Not Shy About Admitting My Modest Talents. For Example, I Am Happy To Admit That I Am Better Than Average At Clever Remarks, And I Also Have A Flair For Getting People To Like Me. But To Be Perfectly Fair To Myself, I Am Ever-ready To Confess My Shortcomings, Too, And A Quick Round Of Soul-searching Forced Me To Admit That I Had Never Been Any Good At All At Breathing Water. As I Hung There From The Seat Belt, Dazed And Watching The Water Pour In And Swirl Around My Head, This Began To Seem Like A Very Large Character Flaw.

Because I Am An Inhuman Monster, I Tend To Be Logical.

Killing Makes Me Feel Good.

I Was Good At Being Charming, One Of My Very Few Vanities.

I Mean, Really: What Kind Of Person Could Possibly Dislike Me?