I’m going to blame the Baroness. Yeah, you got me, it’s her fucking fault. Destro’s gal from GI Joe firmly displaced Penny from Inspector Gadget in my youngling brain as a primary object of childish lust. She had it all; dark hair; glasses; a skin-tight bodysuit that screamed “I verk for Cobra undt have gorgeous breasts!”; an agenda of her own; no shortage of brains; and, most importantly, she was fucking evil. That’s where I got my penchant. It’s why my characters make bad decisions when evil pretty faces come a’ calling. Evil women make me dumb, simple as that.
I know it’s not fair to blame all my past woes on a character from my childhood, but now that I’m past most of them I tend to get introspective. I wonder what it was that drew me to them so, that still draws me sometimes. Why do I rush in where a sane man would rush any other direction? I’ll tell ya. It’s ‘cause, way deep down, evil is hawtsome. S’why I crushed on the Baroness rather than someone safe, like Scarlet or Lady Jaye. Sure, Lady Jaye would never shoot me in the back, but she’d also never shoot someone else in the back to save my life. The Baroness would, and then we’d make sweet love over the fallen corpse. While Lady Jaye would likely shout warning, that’d be cold comfort at my funeral. At least with the Baroness, I’d get some sweet over-the-corpse lovin.’
I think that must be it. Evil is predictable while good is fickle. I know where I stand with a bad girl. I know they want something, ‘cause everybody wants something. While the good girls play coy, the Caveman finds he ain’t got time for that shite. He’s too old.
Now good girls, you take heart. I've got a cadre of friends I can refer you to, and I'll still look out for you. That's the Caveman thing to do.