Why is it that most things you might willingly do under other circumstances become distasteful when you have no choice?

Now that I'm being very successful, publishers are trying to mainstream me, but I'm unabashedly genre. It's what I like to read, what I like to write

Besides I'm a sucker for a pair of pretty eyes.

And the moment you care that much, a man has you. He owns a little piece of your soul, and he can beat you to death with it.

I don't have a master. I'm not sure if I have an equal.

I wasn't crying, my eyes were running. My eyes were running because there were pieces of zombies all over my toys. Jesus.

I know who and what I am. I am the Executioner, and I don't date vampires. I kill them.