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Post by weewatto on Nov 4, 2011 13:57:03 GMT
No quick despatch for you. Every gram and every second of twisted agony that you have poured from your shrivelled and desiccated soul onto wretched, pure bodies will be visited on you a hundredfold. The bluntest knife, left in the yard to rust awhile, will trace jagged wounds along your flaccid appendage; while you, hands bound and helpless stare into my joyous eyes, pleading for an end that will be very slow to come.
I, sitting in my bereft mother's weeds, will watch over hours as little by little, the blood that fuelled your blackened lust spills mockingly onto the concrete.
And in that moment before delirium and numbness take over your body, I will lift the steel kitchen containers and show you the stores of salt and vinegar I've been saving for this very task - with that, you will know that it is not the end just yet.
I speak my child's name to you with every pouring of lance sharp pain into you pathetic flesh - and before the end comes after a day, or maybe two, of endless agony, I will make you understand your transgression.
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Post by Daphne on Nov 6, 2011 22:23:26 GMT
Quite a chilling little epic. I shall be certain not to get on the wrong side of you. Exultation!
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Post by Engelbert Humpalot on Dec 2, 2011 16:47:57 GMT
Jesus wept, but you're a hard woman.
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Post by weewatto on Jan 5, 2012 11:43:04 GMT
He did indeed weep, especially when I stuck that pointy thing in his side. He pretty much knew he was fucked then, to be sure.
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Post by 4gemini7 on Jun 4, 2014 21:25:52 GMT
well said I feel much the same way about my daughters father.
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