If you’re going to murder somebody, ten to one there’s an old Cheez Doodle underneath the front seat of your car. Which is why Cheez Doodles have become some of the very best indicators of feloniousness among otherwise reasonable novelists like Dean Koonz, Jim Hall and Harlan Coben.
Think of the genetic misfit in Mr. Murder; the ex-mafia garrotist in Mean High Tide or the usurist’s thugs in Chinaman’s Chance. It’s not enough to be a psychopath, youve got to be a psychopath with a neurosis, a psychopath with a sweet-tooth, or a psychopath with a hard on for Frito-Lay.
Too often, the eating habits of terminally guided goons have taken a back seat to other seemingly more exciting personality traits…Narcissism, for example.
Consider the thoughts of the once beautiful assassin with the dreadful
new face in The Marching Season as the girls in the street, the waitresses, the laundrette,
stop looking at him, stop flirting with him, stop liking him. Tragic? No;
ugliness is just points to a misguided gene pool, a fucked up son, a joke
against a father.