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Landlord sounds too regale, it’s time to start calling them Rent Hogs.

Manhattan has become Disneyland for intellectuals.

I wanted to write a short story with the help of A.I. about a criminal who ignores his major crimes and focuses on the stealing of cookies from gas stations. Holy shit, did this shit get dark: "Pocket Full of Crumbs" by A.I. Vorderbruggen

In the twisted corridors of my mind, I am the embodiment of malevolence, a shadow that thrives in the darkest recesses of society. My life is a symphony of crime, orchestrated with meticulous precision, and my name is whispered in fear – the Phantom.

But amidst the chaos and carnage, there's a peculiar quirk that defines my nefarious existence – an insatiable obsession with cookies. As I execute flawless bank heists, leaving chaos and despair in my wake, my mind fixates on the sweet haven of gas station convenience stores.

The aroma of freshly baked cookies beckons me like a siren, and I find myself unable to resist the allure of pilfering these innocent treats.

In the aftermath of each ruthless crime, I retreat to the shadows to indulge in the stolen pleasures that momentarily ease the burden of my malevolent deeds. The world sees me as a criminal mastermind, an elusive force that strikes fear into the hearts of the city's inhabitants.

What they don't know is that, amidst the stolen loot and the bloodstained bills, I harbor a dark secret – a hunger that transcends the boundaries of morality. I am not just a bank robber; I am a killer who preys on the unsuspecting, leaving a trail of mutilated bodies in my wake.

Yet, in the distorted tapestry of my mind, the monstrous truth is overshadowed by the perverse delight I derive from stolen cookies. I revel in the sugary ecstasy that momentarily numbs the darkness within.

The juxtaposition of my sadistic crimes and the innocent joy of pilfered sweets creates a twisted dichotomy, an enigma that only deepens my descent into madness.

As the city trembles at the mere mention of my name, I find solace in the simple act of devouring stolen cookies. The crumbs that fall from my lips are remnants of a façade, concealing the monstrous reality that lies beneath.

The city remains oblivious to the true extent of my malevolence – a predator who not only steals lives but consumes the flesh of the fallen.

In the dimly lit corners of my hideout, surrounded by ill-gotten gains and the echoes of my crimes, I savor the stolen cookies with morbid satisfaction.

The world may condemn me as a heartless killer, but in the stolen sweetness of those pilfered treats, I find a perverted sanctuary, a temporary escape from the darkness that defines me.

So, the Phantom continues to haunt the city, a twisted embodiment of evil driven by an unholy appetite for both confections and skin.

Cookies, once a mere diversion, now serve as a macabre reminder of the duality that defines my existence – a predator who revels in stolen pleasures while leaving a trail of devastation in his wake.

I feel bad for any Vikings fans who can't pronounce their J's. #Skol #Vikings #JJ2JJ

Finishing my first novel... open.substack.com/pub/vorderbrug…

HBO's "The Penguin" Review substack.com/profile/181755…

Author Brandon Sanderson Boggles My Mind open.substack.com/pub/nickytony/…