I have always imagined that I would make a pretty good villain in an alternate universe where I had no conscience and it was cool to wear long black caps. But I suspect that somehow, in that brief pause that always seems to happen when the villain is about to kill off the hero, I would always flub my final threatening line and say something like:
“You shall pay for your impotence!”
“I shall grind your bones into a fine powder and serve them in a tapioca pudding!”
“You will make a fine meal for my Tiny Hamsters of Doom[sup]TM[/sup].”
“You would not be facing imminent death at my hands had you not killed my brother. What do you mean you didn’t kill my brother? That’s a nice photograph, but what’s that go to do with anyth…well, now that you mention it, I do see the resemblance between the two of you. Look, I’m really sorry about this little mix-up, let me undo that wrist restraint for you and well call it even.”
And I’d wear a cape (as well as a cap).
Left my Douglas Adams compendium at my parents’ house in VA, so this is approximate:
“Hurry up, Mr. Dent, or you’ll be late.”
“Late for what?”
“I mean, you’ll be the late Arthur Dent. It’s a threat, you see. I never was much good at them.”
Evil is bad. And Good …isn’t.
You’re about to be strapped to the rear bumper of the 18 wheeler we call the American Justice System
Don’t destroy the world, that’s where I keep all my stuff.
What’s that? You have a wife and two children? No, no… I really don’t want to see pictures. Oh, she’s so cute. Three? Really? Well, that’s the age, you know…
Oh, bugger. Aren’t there any single people to kill?