"People like blood sausages too. People are

"People like blood sausages too. People are morons!" "Darling, I forgot to mention my dad is a butcher.""Damn right, kiddo. Best Bangers in the Burrows." "Did I say morons? I meant

to say dumbshits." "Well, I am appalled at your nasty vernacular. You should be ashamed." "Well, I'm not, I'm on fire Derek, and I want into the gates of hell." "My word Dierdre

," Satan's raspy voice interrupted. "A little judgmental, aren't we?" Satan flipped through his book of sins. "I see here that on Jan. 23, 1996, you, Dierdre, uttered 7 cuss words

and murdered a hobo." "He tried to rob me!" Dierdre pleaded to Satan. "Making excuses, are we?" Satan said, a small grin on his face. "That alone's fifty years in the pit of

double Hell." Dante proudly looked on and Deirdre was pardoned three years later. She found some peace of mind by making her own musical instruments and using them in her music.

Deirdre made a drum out of a tin can, and tambourine out of a box of cereal. Dante thought she was a fine craftsman and an even better musician. When she banged on stuff,

he didn't need wishes. That one was never granted. That was ok, having Big Dick around more than made up for the inconvenience to his domestic situation. Big Dick made him feel dom

ino's pizza in places he could never feel it on his own. Wishes are just an arbitrary combination of sounds that people make. Big Dick has always been a stand up guy in

Las Vegas, but things had taken a downturn. Where were his wishes, now? Gone. Just like his backbone. But maybe he still had a purpose in life. If he could just man up and let go.