As the daemons awoke they could only see my shadowy figure in the distant lonlight.. I was bobbing my head around, and I commented with a question-like taunt followed by a pretty good kiontu: "See this? It's because I have a spine. You're never gonna taste my spine." The Kion-ion went as follows:
"On the edge of tha cliff (tha cliff)
My lyrics are diff (they diff)
Be sent back to the weywisdom-worlds
May tortuous horrors be ended w/swords
I'm a token for truth and the iron stance!
Daemons in the club aint gonna dance!"
It instilled fear into they ugly ass domes. Each of the daemons gasped. One stepped up to my dumb ass and spoke with a weakened tone: "Please, sir. We are mere hell-daemons. Treat us right (oh babe). Treat us right." and he slunk back into his devlish group/posse/with his friends.
I thought for a moment. Then I realized that this lone brave kougra had not only stood up to me but he was also sn. It struck within me a deep, dark moment of empathy only associated with childhood memories of growing up in *Kreuelfador Encante. All of the beautiful, yet abused citizens cared for one another and only hoped to be graced by the presence of their captors. They did not so much yearn for freedom as much as they desperately craved recogntion. I let the daemons pass, and I finished my english muffin and went back to bed.