The Most Evil Character Ever ... that you can relate to.

Read this somewhere just now, and although I have already posted today I don't feel like working on an IAS machine language assignment. I read that the best characters are those who the reader can related to. Thus, it is really challenging to write a very evil character in a story because the average reader will not be able to relate to him, at least not without being sympathetic. So, I rise to the challenge, and release what I hope will be the first installment of a lasting series on this blog. I call it ...
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The Adventure of Vince Vanderhauntyourdreams, the Evil Evilest that is Evil, yet easy to relate to.
Chapter 1, an Introduction.
"Aww Fudgesicle pudding!" Howled Dr. Vanderhauntyourdreams after hearing the lottery numbers on the radio, while stuck in Tuesday morning traffic. He threw his losing ticket out the window and punched a kitten in the face. "Littering!" he loudly exclaimed in his bitter solitude "one of the many small evil things I do!", he was shouting now "but you will see my full power when my master plan comes into focus". His voice came as a sonic boom. He was convinced he caught the eye of the old male driver adjacent to him in the standstill traffic. However now his cold judgmental eyes stared forward. Vince always had a hard time controlling his voice when he started talking evil.
He sat alone in his tiny Prius, that although small with little horsepower, was dreadful on gas. The faded sky-blue paint was the final touch on what made this car appear excessively flamboyant. Most on-lookers expect to spot n mildly-obese middle-aged women in a petunia dress behind the wheel, but get a pleasant chuckle when they see the tired-eyed middle age man with a permanent coffee stain on most of the shirts in his unvaried wardrobe. The rest of the drivers dignity is removed by the numerous bumper stickers that revealed either malicious or disturbing remarks. One had "I strongly disagree with your stance on abortion" in big glittery letters, while another one was simply black with a white lettered message that exclaimed "You're kids r failure". A final one read "Illegal Immigrants are god's gift to our nation".
There were gym clothes scattered around the back seat. But if his skinny 130 pound body wasn't an obvious indicator of their under-use, then the ever-growing pile of discarded candy wrappers that covered them were. In the passenger seat was an ugly lime-green duffel bag from 1982 that was full of kittens. Frequently he would remove one from the bag and assert his evil position of power by physically harming the adorable feline.
The painful morning commute to his crappy job took him just under an hour on most days. The grim building stood non-spectacularly at the bottom of a glum hill. Parking was savagely unavailable. However in the early days Vince found quite the solution. He had drawn up a handicapped parking pass, and stowed his car daily in one of two reserved spaces at the nearby "drug-rehab for the paraplegic" clinic.
Once in his building he still had to make his way to the fifth floor. To do so he would grab the elevator and take advantage of his terrible hygiene to ensure that his distaste for the start of the day was matched by all other passengers. He smelt like a robust mixture of burnt skunk and wet-dog farts. Finally on his floor, it was his last chance to spread his hatred among others. He would make his way to his desk by mixing foot shuffling with loud pounding steps. He met the rare greeting with either an audible grunt or an extended period of barking and growling that lead to violent foaming of the mouth.
Finally he sat down at his desk where he was supposed to perform miserable tasks for eight hours, but this time was usually spent plotting his next diabolically insane ultra evil plot.