Just do what it says in the bottom corner
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Eunice, her face contorted with sadistic delight, even as she cursed herself for forgetting the petrol and matches, was about to fulfill a long-held fantasy.
Stickybud* held tightly to the washing pan that contained his severed genitals, frantically holding it close to his lower torso to stem the flow of innards cascading out of his slit abdomen.
Meanwhile, cross-dressing Allesklar* appeared on the scene carrying a casserole of freshly pod peas, shouting “hang on – sticky, old pal, old mate, would you mind ever so much holding on to this casserole of freshly pod peas so that they will be nicely boiled?” adding “I will collect them from your charred remains after Eunice and I have watched you suffer your horrible, horrible death.”
“No prob’s,” said sticky obligingly “have you put salt in the water, it helps to preserve the flavour, you know.”
“Yes, yes,” said Alesklar, irritably “‘course I have. Now, don’t wriggle about and upset them when the flames consume you.”
Stickybud* assured her he wouldn’t.
End of true story.
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