You’ve called in your last marker with that killing. So listen closely and look deeply into my eyes. You like listening to my voice, don’t you? It’s so smoky, so sexy, and so very feminine. You like looking into my baby blues even more, don’t you?
Imagine a glimpse into absolute darkness. Imagine the chilling foreground: a cold voice, deep for a woman, with a hard merciless edge, speaking very matter-of-factly. Imagine the masculine background: screams of sheer terror muffled by thigh bacon. What’s thigh bacon, you ask? Why, that’s flesh sliced off with surgical precision from the screamer’s thigh by a vujcic. It’s a MADD place, Jack. Fear it. It’s your gonna be future, if you don’t straighten up and fly right. But most of all, sinner, fear me, its resident Darque Angel.
So God said unto Lost and Elfin in Eaton, “Be fruitful and multiply. Spread thine Darque essence across my universe. And let all mine worlds know the obscenity of your graven copulation.”
You’ve been duly warned with Scripture. The next time we talk, it won’t be so painless. What’s that you say? Bring it on, big girl. Why, thank you, Jack. I resemble that. I shall bring it on the next time we meet. But I won’t just be packin’ heat. I’ll be packin’ my blade as well. So you know just how up close and personal we’z be gettin’.