Lloyd Finley is a washed-up also-ran

(As told to me by his next-door neighbor Kenneth Whitfield.)

Is Lloyd Finley history’s greatest monster? Probably not. There’s still time, sure, but probably not. Really, he doesn’t even try very hard. I mean, he’s seen some shit. Hell, we all know he’s even done some shit. But most of it barely rates. Sure, he spent several years ruthlessly subjugating the population of several Appalachian towns as a violent drug lord, but who among us hasn’t? And alright, so maybe he eats the occasional baby, but everyone gets hungry sometimes, and don’t vegans say that meat is murder? At least he’s honest about it. And I’m sure all of us have gone on the occasional bloody robbery spree, sold biological agents to terrorist organizations, and hunted the homeless for sport. Everybody needs hobbies! And heck, he even does some good in the world. Why, just yesterday, he helped an old lady cross a busy road, and didn’t even charge her for it! And last week, he met a kitten that he didn’t drown in a burlap sack. No, I say it’s unfair, these allegations, these aspersions, being cast upon him. At most he qualifies for West Bumfuck’s greatest monster of 1993 to 1995, or one of history’s many fairly mediocre monsters. But to elevate him to these heights is to denigrate the many years of hard work and dedication of those who truly aspire to the title, people who have spent their lives honing their craft, often to little credit, and deserve to be recognized. In short, Lloyd Finley is not history’s greatest monster, and anyone who says he is has failed themselves and posterity.