“Grow up, Devin. Your penis isn't a magic fucking wand! You can't cast spells with it!"

For years those words have haunted me, stoking the fires of insanity.

Yet, here we find ourselves, at world's end in a field of bloody poppies, penis wriggling in the drooling cunt of The Harbinger of Death, with salvation a typewriter’s stroke away.  

When my moment finally arrives, I find myself giggling boyishly.  

With cock in hand, I give my penis a flick and a swish and paint the Devil’s ass in garish cum.

“Abra-fucking-Kadabra, Karen,” I cackle as the world burns to ash.