Today was the day. I carefully selected a black suit from my large collection of goth clothing. No one could know. I was a muderer. Once I attached my fingers to the cold trigger, got a grip, and pressed down, I was no longer innocent. I was a killer. Not a role model for children who sing the banana song. And it felt great. I wanted to kill more people. I wanted to know that I could destroy the minion stereotype, and crush it. I want to prove to the Mafia that I was worthy of being in their group. As I walked out the door, to Gru's funeral, I had no mercy on my face and a goal in mind.
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Fall out minions
FanfictionThey don't understand me, being emo is hard. My minion family is so religious, only some get it. It's hard to be yellow when all you want to wear is black.
