Pracillian Pernicious sits on a bench, contemplating her lot in life. Wherever she went, she made people regret; her gaze would cut like a knife. But why, she pondered, can they not agree with the things I love the most? I'm quite special, you see; you needn't flee, "Oh! I don't like to boast!"

While most little girls love dolls and curls and days full of sunshine and wonder. "Oh my," she feigned, then looked quite disdained, "Oh! I love lightning and thunder!"

Now, just down the road lived rich Mr. Goad, who had ruined many a man. He took pleasure from pillage, each man in the village, "Oh! I'm his biggest fan!" The story goes no one really knows how he came to be locked in his vault. "The air was too thin," she said with a grin, "Oh! It wasn't my fault!"

Mr. Green was a banker, a real wanker, foreclosing his pride and joy. To evict was a pleasure, to add to his treasure, so many dreams to destroy. His yacht was a beauty, paid for with his booty. Oh, boy, what a wonderful trip. When they lowered the anchor, it fell on the banker, "Oh! He went down with his ship!"

And lest we forget, Violet O'Dett, who survived 5 husbands to date. Though it's been said she poisoned them dead, now she has succumbed to their fate. Pracillian reached into her pocket, pulled out a locket, and opened the tiny lid. Inside was a pill to poison and kill, "Oh! But I never did!"

Then, the bats in the sky started to fly and circled around her head. Fog high as her knees, wind rushing through trees, loud enough to wake up the dead. The full moon is aglow, lighting below, casting shadows all over the place. A powder complexion, white china perfection, a sweet smile swept over her face. Her eyes are ablaze, a black veil of haze, pinning you onto the ground. Are your scruples askew? Is she coming for you? "Oh! I won't make a sound!"