тeɴder ғeтιѕн

Bile builds in scornful cauldrons, humor fundamentally lacking whilst addressing his counterpart & ❛companion,❜ query rising as to who had the bright idea of permitting the devil to walk into God’s office.

          ❝I ain’t dealin’ wit’ this shit t’day, Satanick.❞

jovial nature is built stoic, lavender oculi flickering  with indisputable glee at his inverse’s presented animosity. his encouragement pon friend’s encroachment remains; friend readily preparing it’s tendrils; uncoiling and swaying  them with lethargic fashion.

          ❝……                  ………..                        ……………….           Get that shit away from me.❞