Eddie Brock I VENOM

“Damn it… with all the times I argue with you… I might as well have just stayed with my ex…” But she dumped you, and I’m telling you, it was because of the outfit. “What’s your fucking problem…? Not everyone is naturally blessed with a body made of writhing alien goo that conveniently covers all the parts requiring censorship." My problem is, we’re not scary enough.  “I don’t give a damn about being scary!”
And that’s the mistake… we have to look more menacing, we have to be taken seriously. “Then go buy yourself that damn 800 bugs leather coat!” 
No sooner had Eddie uttered the sentence than his right foot froze right in the middle of his stride, while his left just kept going. He stumbled forward, knocked over an entire rack of shirts in a desperate attempt to grab onto something, and landed among the hangers. His body jerked upright again, he regained control for about two seconds, then his legs marched straight toward the nearest mannequin, both arms wrapped tightly around its waist as his face was pressed against its bare plastic shoulder. “Why the fuck are you doing this?!” It goes with your current look. Uncooool..booooring. Venom just tightened the embrace even more, behind them, the clothing rack, already half-cleared, slowly tipped over.