Now. What to post. Hmm... I could go on a NaNoWriMo rant... or a rant about chemistry and "climate change". Or perhaps...
Why is there a picture in the middle of this post.
I didn't plan this. I didn't plan anything. I'm making this up as I go along. In fact, I--
You're rambling again, my dear author.
I'm what? What is this mysterious font change?
Please stop being surprised in a futile attempt to be witty. I'm the wittiest one here, remember?
If I'm your author, then I created you. If I created you, then I'm wittier than you. I'm guessing you're Sylve--
Ssh. Let me introduce myself, please. I'm old enough to take care of things.
Pssh. Define old enough, and taking care of thi--
Let's stop arguing with each other and get on with things. You're starting to sound like Anastasia.
Well, she did visit once...
... I pity your readers.
First things first. I'm Bob. Or the Dark Lord, or odoriferous weather-bitten knave (or whatever other Shakespearean insult suits your fancy), or a witty alibi...but my name, in fact, is Sylvester Glass. Has a villainous ring to it, doesn't it? I do like it. It fits my job perfectly.
Have a frightened you yet? I seem to do that...my sidekick says I need to stop wearing the cloak and top hat, but I refuse. They're too much a part of me to disuse them so easily.
I am supposed to stick to my job of "villainy" (long story...I'm not supposed to give away spoilers, I think), but my author is neglecting my story and I'm bored. It was either take over her blog or blow something up. Maybe I should have blown up her blog...no. I'm not that evil. Yet.
Do I really have to explain who I am and what I do? Suspense fuels me. It would be so much more fun to shrink back into the shadows and leave you all wondering what on earth happened this week. You know what? I think I'll do that.
See you around. If you're lucky, you'll see me too.