Oh, the horrors.
"There's not much going on here, where I am. In fact, it's strangely peaceful - normally there are the wailers and moaners, clanking around, bustling and jostling for a touch of me. But no - nothing."
This was me, trying to write as the Devil when he's alone. I feel sorry for the Devil when he's alone because he must be like me. I really like the idea of death, I embrace it. For in our deaths is release, and I wish to be released from this earthly toil. I imagine Death and the Devil to be good friends, friends who perhaps play poker and share their women - good, close friends.
I tried to forge a union once with the Devil using a Ouija board. Or wee-jee, as we call it. The union was unsuccessful, although I did try to imbibe a quart of bleach as a result. Perhaps that was my good friend, Death, calling me.
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