Need I say more, cat? YES. You may look plush and peaceful, even rigor mortis, but one could only be so lucky. YOU IMP. That's right. Obviously you and Satan have something worked out: he gets your soul and in exchange you take my skin. Soon your days of renting flesh and spitting venom upon this Earth will be over, asshole. Surely my salvation will be precluded by an eternity spent in the 9th Circle, where you will gnaw at my skull for your pleasure. Why not open your eyes, YOU DICK, so that the rest of the world can look straight into the pit of Hell? I'll see you there.Oh, and Merry Christmas. Enjoy the poinsettia.
