What the fuck is THIS shit, Vin -- no-- Verrine wonders? (Pau -- no, Paimon + Two fat goth kids.)
Of annoyances, this world needs ridding, O' glorious demons of Hell, come do our bidding! O' Lords of levels in between, Come ruin this years Halloween!
"For the girls at school who make fun of us!" the retainer-face sloshed through her lisp, sneaking in a bite of her twinkie before casting the last bit of the mojo powder onto the palpitating fire cauldron (with a spencer's tag still on it.) accidentally tossing in the rest of the yellowcake crumbs.
POOF. Gales of ice green glimmer, steel lava-flame flashes of witchcraft and spookery, whirling, tumbling, fumbling (did someone pinch his ass?) toiling, draining through the maniacal brimstone gates which lay on the outer limits of our dreary, boring world. Vince the demon appeared before the pair of two the ugliest people he's ever had the misfortune of viewing with his now tainted eyes.
And choking on all the mojo-powder the WOULD-BE WITCHES used way too much of.
"Did you fucking need THAT much mojo-powder?"
CHOKE, gasp, CHOKE and rattle. Palms planted to the sturdy soil surface of the bent knees and one, two, three seconds of his earth-life wasted on recovering from that cloud of bad 90's shimmer spells. What was this, the fucking craft? This bitch wasn't Fairuza Bulk and her even fatter sidekick was not that other hot one. Vince, wait, was he Vince? WTF? Verrine curled his lip in such a way that The King swayed his hips in his grave, insta-pissed.
"Who the fuck are you two?"
"Uh, we're uh, hello, lords of Hell. We're black magic users."
"Lords? As in like, plural?"
Where was the other Lord? Oh snap. Paul, uh, we mean, Paimon was here! The sneer melted momentarily into a broooaaaad grin, pitchfork of his chin nodding to his bromantical-hetero-lifemate, before it slipped back past toward the slimy ones and their fingering of their pewter dagger necklaces. Had they ever heard of Proactive, orrrr? Because their pizza faces gleamed even in this dim-ass lighting like fuckin oily vats of ooze.
"Anyway," the one in the black lipstick, Marilyn Manson shirt and long hot topic 'vampire' lace-skirt spoke up shakily. "We've been uh, worshiping you two for a while now and finally decided to summon you."
"H-h-hey...." retainer-face chimed in, barely fitting into her pigtail, Alice in Wonderland get-up. She looked like a bright blue, rippling, disgusting ice cream cone. That no one wanted to fucking eat or bring to Wonderland. She wouldn't even FIT through the rabbit hole.
"Are you fucking kidding me? You're our followers? As in, YOU? The two of you?" he glanced to Paimon, brows smashed together, as if to say, what the fuck have we been reduced to?