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these bitches on pinterest need to shut the fuck up

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For context

In the quiet town of Bay Harbor, people were used to the occasional oddball. They had the guy who only jogged at midnight in a full tuxedo, and the lady who dressed her iguanas in sweaters. But nothing prepared them for the legend of the Bay Harbor Butcher—a man who, despite his terrifying name, was honestly more clumsy than scary. His name? Dexter Morgan.

Dexter wanted to be the ultimate mysterious figure of fear, the kind of name whispered in hushed tones. He even made business cards that read: “Bay Harbor Butcher: Precision since 2007.” Unfortunately, he misspelled “precision” and half the town thought he was advertising “Bay Harbor Pretzels.” People kept calling him to cater birthday parties.

Instead of striking fear, he mostly struck confusion. One night, he tried to stalk a target but slipped on a sprinkler, faceplanting straight into a flamingo lawn ornament. By the time he got up, dazed and bleeding from plastic bird beak injuries, the homeowner had already offered him lemonade and a snack. Dexter accepted—because hey, evil-doing works up an appetite.

His disguises weren’t much better. He once tried wearing a ski mask to look menacing but forgot to cut the eye holes. He spent twenty minutes walking into walls, muttering, “Dark Passenger, guide me!” before asking muffled through the fabric, “Do you feel terrified yet?” The answer was absolutely not.

Even his so-called “sinister” hideout was laughable. While real villains had secret lairs or warehouses, Dexter worked out of a shed behind his apartment. The place smelled of leftover donuts from the police station, and he had fairy lights strung across the ceiling. He called it The Room of Shadows, but Deb just called it “my idiot brother’s shed.”

Dexter tried very hard to come up with a scary catchphrase. He tested several: “You can’t escape the Dark Passenger!” and “You’re next on my table!” But he usually forgot halfway through and muttered something like, “You’re…uh…next on my…cutting board?” Not exactly horror material.

One time, he attempted a dramatic villain entrance by hiding in the shadows and booming, “I am the Bay Harbor Butcher!” Unfortunately, he’d been hiding in the wrong garage for hours. When the lights came on, he realized he’d been dramatically scaring a bunch of confused cats.

The Miami Metro Police actually knew about him, but they didn’t arrest him because, technically, he hadn’t really done anything illegal in front of them. “The Bay Harbor Butcher” became more of a running joke than a real threat. He even ended up as a parade marshal one year, waving awkwardly from a convertible while holding his forensic kit.

People in Bay Harbor started using him as an excuse for everyday problems. Late to work? Blame Dexter. Forgot to clean the pool? Must’ve been the Bay Harbor Butcher’s fault. At one point, the mayor joked about giving him an official salary as the town scapegoat. Dexter didn’t even argue—he secretly thought that sounded nice.

In the end, Dexter Morgan never struck true fear into anyone’s heart. But he did bring the town together in laughter. After all, nothing bonds a community like joking about a wannabe villain who can’t see through his own ski mask. And to this day, Dexter proudly tells anyone who will listen: “I may not be the scariest—but at least I’m unforgettable.”

TLDR: It's over

I'm doing pickems, just a random thought

here I am working through it