There I lie, deep in the dark corners of the dank and dreary night, when I discern a decidedly dark and depraved act of deception. There he was, drinking of his own disdainful doctrine, broadcasting a despair-driven and dotterel dogma. A dogma, which if dominated the earth, would drive the domain of life into downcast and dismal depths. What he seeks is a donation, a doling of dividends to his already distended bank account. Depressingly, what he delves for will be delivered via the downtrodden and destitute. Why, you might demand, would these down-and-out people diminish their already dwarfed sums of money? The disclosure is as downright simple as they come; the dread of deathless damnation. The divine deceiver delves out lengthy, disgusting dictions damning those who doubt the definitive datum of his demonic and discriminative doctrine. Naturally, the dense and dim-witted are duped by this devil-dodging dolt. They send their dollars in droves to this man, only further deciding that the depleted are the decorous targets for his despicable deeds. I declare that if I draw the chance to destroy these depraved, destructive, diabolical disasters to humankind, I shall, without deploration for myself, deal them what they are so dearly due.
You may call me D.
 CharismaticBeelzebub · Tue Jun 26, 2007 @ 08:19pm · 1 Comments |
