I was an innocent before the dark times, before the Darth Vader t-shirt.
Before that, all I cared about was podracing my Big Wheel through the deserts of Southern California and tinkering with fantastic Lego machines. But after I donned that 100% cotton skin of evil everything changed. I cut off my cousin's hand and watched him fall out of my treehouse after he refuse to join my club. I enslaved the Wookiee in the picture. I went into my sister's forest-painted room and killed all of her teddy bears. I started choking my friends for even the most insignificant of failures, like bringing me Hydrox cookies when I wanted Oreos. I over-dramatically screamed "Noooooooooooooooo!!!" in a Mufasa voice whenever I didn't get my way.
I was eventually able to break the cycle by throwing my teacher into a seemingly bottomless dumpster after he accidentally electrocuted some kid in lab class, but it doesn't silence the screams in my head from all those I killed while under the sway of that terrible t-shirt.
