Ode to Rooster Sauce

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The wickedly romantic story that ends with you French-kissing ice cubes

Satan is offering a special on his Devil Deals
for those in the know.
It’s a no strings attached program,
where Lucifer takes folks
down to the lowers levels of his lair,
for the mere cost of a dozen or so taste buds.
You take advantage of the bargain,
for it’s really a once-in-a-lifetime kind of arrangement,
and head into the Abyss to claim your reward.

There is banner at the gates of Hell
that sends a grave warning to all those
foolish enough to venture there willingly,
after taking a shot of spicy sauce.
“Welcome to the painful world of adult pleasures,”
it exclaims, greeting the pilgrims riding
the Angel of Darkness’ express train to taste torture.
Horrified, you then receive
a flamethrower to the face and race
to the layer that even Dante was afraid of,
where salivating sadist demons await hungrily,
anticipating fresh blood.

There the fallen angels slap you with beets
until it appears that you’re bleeding,
enroll you in every spam email program known to man
while forcing you to use an AOL server,
and make you dance shirtless in a sunburn machine,
which is just a room of UV rays
mixed with slapping strips of leather.
Finally, you are tickled into submission
by a spike-studded Elmo doll,
and sent on your way back home.

All this for a hit of liquid brimstone.
And while friends fake concern
and ask if it was worth it,
you’ll just smile fiendishly
and send them on the trip themselves.

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