John always felt a little anxious being home alone, but the moment knife-weilding men in clown masks entered his apartment, he thought being home alone would be such much fucking better/
I knew I was out of my league when Xyizizzit, mighty lord of the third cul-de-sac of hell, pointed out that Mrs. Dash is not an approved substitute for salt in a summoning rite.
I hated my life with all the nasty snarling beasties, the demon resurrections, constant banishment rituals, and don’t get me started on the dry-cleaning bills!
Quite the head turner, long following blonde hair, legs that go on for days, and azure eyes --save the gray complexion and the incessant hankering for fresh human flesh, she would be a real beauty.
For I was always a rambunctious sort, and did not wish to leave well enough alone, I painted the eyes of the Anubis statue in my grandfather's laboratory wide open, and with an angry slant.
He pressed his calloused thumb against the grimy window pane so it covered the image of Becka Timms playing on her front lawn across the street, and screwed his digit clockwise, a shrill squeak filling the air.
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