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291 pages, Paperback
First published July 17, 2012







“Did we not just have this conversation? Let me see. Yes. Yes, it was the same conversation. There was some whining from you, then I threatened to do physical harm to your toy, then you grudgingly complied. Perhaps we can just skip all the middle part and get to the part where you comply? Otherwise, I’m liable to get angry and do all sorts of things I’ll really enjoy now and mildly regret later.”
I hated this angel.'


“Oh, there’s more,” I added gleefully. “If you are flagged, or act up, then they pull you into a room and take incredible liberties with your possessions and physical being. We probably don’t have enough time for that, regretfully. I highly recommend it.”
I didn’t often enter churches. They were great fun to cover in graffiti, and disrupting a service was one of my favorite activities, but they always made me uncomfortable.
I shifted Fred to the other undamaged arm and eyed the extended rod. The idea of shoving it up my ass was pretty appealing. I hadn’t stuck random objects in my behind for months.
I fell in love with Ted Bundy. Here was guy who totally flew under the radar, appearing harmless and even injured to his potential victims. He’d whack them repeatedly over the head with a crowbar when they tried to help him load stuff into his car. Then he would rape them, sometimes adding their lopped off heads to his collection. Occasionally, he’d continue to sleep with their decomposing body. That was dedication to your art. Too bad the humans had killed Ted Bundy. I would have been honored to Own this guy in a terrible and painful way that he surely would have appreciated.
I was so excited. Would he be like Ted Bundy? A genius killer with the soul of a poet? Would there be heads in the freezer, or bodies buried under the crawl space? What amazing things would I find behind the door?
Four bodies. I was inspired to create a lovely tableau and started prepping by removing limbs and stacking them neatly in piles, while formulating a vision of sculpture in my head. (...) I contemplated removing teeth, but opted to leave them in and do eyes instead. And maybe tongues, too.
By now, the middle part of the kitchen was on fire, there were holes blown through most of the house, and the fridge door was hanging off its hinges. None of the beer fell out, though. I took it as a positive omen.
I remembered the satisfaction of leaving a higher-level demon’s house; my limbs barely attached, and burns covering the majority of my body. I would leave my injuries unrepaired for weeks, proudly displaying that another demon had found me worthy and I’d been tough enough to survive it.