There wasn't a single moment that defined my life. But rather, a single style. Crime, baby. That's all it took for me to be alive. For me to feel like a human fucking being. Goddamn. It was a summer night, bordering on that sweet sweet autumn breeze coming in. I was minding my own business on the edge of town. Working my bullshit job as a stockboy in some supermarket. When she walked in. Looking damn good. Boots, skirt, top, headband, the whole deal. I wanted what she was offering if you catch me. All I did was throw some product on the shelves near her and I could already tell sparks were flying. She asked me whilst we were in the pasta aisle, "Hey, do you have any, uhm.. angel hair anywhere?" I responded, "Well... Besides yours, we should have some in aisle 7." And that's all it took, boys. The perfect crime.