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Like a woman scorned

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I want to tear off his head and use his spine for shoelaces.
I want to gut him, replace the innards with nitric acid, and sew him up again.
I want to hang him by his toenails and roast him with a blowtorch.

I want to shatter his sanity and scorch his peace of mind.
I want to crush his ego, devastate his self esteem and destroy his confidence.
I want to deep-freeze his smug grin and smash it with the hammer of epic wordsmiths.

I want to gouge out his eyeballs and replace them with his cut-off testicles.
I want to install a clue-by-four sideways up his arse, pour in gasoline and light it all on fire.
I want to castrate him with a dull knife and sow salt upon his seed.

I want to cut out his tongue and choke him on his blasted words.
I want to scream a banshee wail in his ears, then block them so it will forever be stuck in his head.
I want to spoon out his brains through the nose and use his skull for a bongo drum.

I want to wither away his heart with Everclear and replace his blood with pus.
I want to dump him on the Moon, butt-naked, and leave him a shrink-wrapped pressure suit, batteries not included (TM).
I want to sink him in high-fructose corn syrup and shove him face-first into a wasp colony.

You say I sound angry? You cannot even begin to imagine.