"With fire magic, the latin-y words don't

"With fire magic, the latin-y words don't make you catch fire; rather, magic shifts our timeline to one in which you'd happen to catch fire via other means. So you see, Your Honor,

it's not my fault that, in one of the many alternate timelines that exist, I just happened to utter words that would shift him to one where he caught fire at that moment. See?"

"N-not... really..." I mumbled, staring with disgust at my inflammable former friend. "So... What else can you do? I mean, I'm not really a big fan of setting people on fire..."

went aflame. But I've realized that pyromancy is an excellent method of teaching children to behave. One scald and they learn to stop whining if dinner isn't to their liking."

"Plus, it freshens the air with that burning children's flesh aroma," said Grandma, just before Junior threw her wig in the fire and went to get the Neosporin. "Stop arguing!" said

Grandpa Cthulhu, his facial tentacles waving furiously. "I will damn to eternal suffering the next one of you who makes so much as a peep!" Grandma and Junior shut up, but glared

until their eyeballs popped. “Oh for the love of…” Grandpa Cthulhu grumbled, his prodigious claws digging into the leather sofa. “Does anyone care to explain themself?” Junior

Asparagus stuttered, "We've come to ask you for your assistance in building a spaceship to Andromeda." Mr. Lunt then added, "We'll pay you 35% commission." Gpa Cthulhu considered

going back to sleep (and did). Luckily, Abercrombie Cthulhu agreed to the deal, knowing full well that a moment later he would destroy all of humanity with his abs.